


Feeling with the Volume Up

by starrynightshade



Series: Home is a Person, Not a Place [2]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: AU where everything is fine, Again, F/F, F/M, Family Fluff, Mild Sexual Content, Original Character(s), Post Samaritan, Root and Shaw adopt a kid, Unconventional Families, for the mission, minimal plot, the Machine meddles in the team's presonal lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2019-07-16 01:39:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 53,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16075661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrynightshade/pseuds/starrynightshade
Summary: Shaw glanced over at Root, who returned the look with only the slightest nod. Apparently that was all it took for them to make a decision. “Root and I were actually thinking that Gen should stay here.”Safe from Samaritan, Root and Shaw are finally able to enjoy a shred of normalcy. That is, until an old number comes crashing into their lives and changes everything.





	1. If Your Number's Up...

Shaw didn’t care much about getting shot. It happened from time to time, and in the grand scheme of things, it was little more than an inconvenience. With enough adrenaline and focus, she could separate herself from the pain, but the damage had to be addressed eventually. Still, a bullet wasn’t wasn’t quite enough to stop her.  
  
However, three bullets in a neat line up her body were a bit of a different story, which is how she had found herself under house arrest by order of her sort-of boss. She cursed their number for getting involved with the mafia, the mafia for having a sub-machine gun on hand, and herself a little bit for not getting to cover fast enough.  
  
The last several days had consisted mostly of painkillers, a liquid diet, and Root hovering unnecessarily every time she got up to go to the bathroom. On the bright side, she’d been allowed to sit up today, which had boosted her usefulness to a slightly less pathetic level. She’d spent half her time yesterday trying to get a hold of a comms unit so she could figure out what Finch and Reese were up to. She’d spent the other half sedated.  
  
Shaw figured there were worse places to recover though. The loft Finch had handed her the keys to was a bit extravagant for her tastes, and certainly bigger than was strictly necessary, but the security was top of the line so she kept her mouth shut. Apparently John had a similarly excessive dwelling, so it was only fair.  
  
Coming back was a bit of a blur, but apparently someone (most likely John) had decided to spare her the humiliation of being carried to the suite upstairs and dumped her in the spare bedroom instead. She couldn’t complain, it put her closer to the kitchen. On the other side of the door, she could just make out the sound of humming and the clatter of dishes being pulled from the cupboard. The sharp ringing of a phone cut through the other noises, causing Bear to perk up from his spot next to her bed. “We’re grounded, remember?” She said, and the dog lowered his his head back to his paws dejectedly.  
  
The ringing stopped, and the sounds of cooking resumed, punctuated every now and then by an affirmative hum or a string of indistinguishable words. Shaw heard the phone hit the counter after a few moments, then her door was opening.  
  
“Was that Finch? Do we have a new number?”  
  
“Not exactly.” Root said, laying a tray across Sameen’s lap before reaching out to brush one of her ever-misbehaving strands of hair away from her face. “You look better today. I made you some soup, and there’s a panini if you’re feeling up to something more solid.”  
  
Sameen glanced down at the tray. “Thanks. What do you mean ‘not exactly’?”  
  
“It’s not a new number. Harold says you’ve helped this one before.” Root said, busying her hands by smoothing down the covers on the bed. “John and I are going to take care of extraction, then bring her here for safe keeping.”  
  
“What idiot would do something to get themselves in trouble like this more than once?”  
  
Root shrugged. “It sounds like stupidity isn’t the problem, naivety is. In any case, I’m going to need you to wait here until I get back.”  
  
“And what’s stopping me from walking out the front door as soon as you’re gone?”  
  
She heaved a sigh that was half exasperation and half affection. “Besides the the forty-five millimeter hole in your thigh?”  
  
“You know a bullet’s never stopped me before.”  
  
“If it weren’t for your shoulder, I’d happily handcuff you to the headboard. But since that’s not an option, I was hoping you might stay put simply because I’m asking you to.”  
  
Shaw stirred her soup lazily, watching the vegetables swirl around in the broth. “Now why would I do that?”  
  
“Because Harold tells me Genrika is very fond of you. I’d hate to get her hopes up, then bring her back to an empty apartment.”  
  
That got her attention. “It’s Gen? She’s the new number? You have to let me come with you.”  
  
“Let me take care of this.” Root said, pressing her good shoulder back onto the pillows. “If John and I hurry we can have her back here before the jello finishes setting.”  
  
“You made jello? Never mind, that’s not the point. You should be taking me with you.”  
  
“It’s not up for discussion Sameen. You’re going to stay here and eat your lunch, and I’m going to go pick Genrika up from her school.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out an earpiece. “If it will make you feel better, I can let you listen in.”  
  
“Fine.” She shoved the device in her ear. “But if she’s got so much as a hair out of place when she gets here, I’ll make sure you and Reese both have very short and miserable lives, GSWs be damned.”  
  
Root smiled at her as if the threat only made her infinitely more endearing. “Precious cargo, understood.” Leaning down, she planted a kiss on Shaw’s forehead before straightening to leave.  
  
“Before you go, bring me my go bag.” Root didn’t ask questions, just walked out into the living room and returned a few moments later with the black duffel slung over her shoulder. The medal was still in the envelope it had been in when she’d stuck it in that safety deposit box what felt like a lifetime ago. “Tell her I gave you this, she’ll know she can trust you.”  
  
Root took the medal and pinned it to the inside of her blazer. “Got it. Now, you eat your lunch and try to get some rest. I’ll be back before you know it.”  
  
“Not a single scratch!” Shaw reminded her as she walked out the door.

* * *

  
Growing up, Root had loved to learn. There was a certain thrill in mastering a new skill or solving something that had seemed unsolvable at fist, and nothing could compare to it. Root loved to learn — which meant that she had a natural disdain for most educational institutions.  
  
Fitzhugh Quinell Preparatory School was no different. From the outside it looked like a castle, a place for privileged children to get a world-class education. But as with most things, it wasn’t at all what it appeared to be. The inside of the building was too quiet, too orderly. Even as young girls moved from class to class, they spoke in hushed tones as they walked town the hall in pairs. They looked like tiny politicians, making deals and plans with allies. In all likelihood, some of them would be politicians one day. Apparently there was no such thing as starting them too young.  
  
“Headmistress Hunt will see you now.” Announced the prim secretary standing in front of her and John. Root tore her eyes from the strange children as they followed her down a short hallway to a heavy wooden door. “Headmistress, there’s a Mr. Riley and a Ms. Gardner here to collect Ms. Zhirova.” She said, poking her head into what Root assumed was the headmistress’s office.  
  
“We’re inside, Finch. We should have Gen soon.” John muttered into his comms unit. Sameen’s earpiece didn’t come with a microphone, but Root knew she was listening to every word.  
  
The secretary ushered them into the office, pulling out chairs for them across from a severe woman with wire framed glasses and dull brown hair pulled back into a bun. The plaque on her desk proclaimed that she was ‘Maurine Hunt, Headmistress.’ Root thought she looked more like a warden.  
  
“We’re sorry to interrupt your day.” John said smoothly, shaking her hand before having a seat across the desk from her. “Genrika’s guardian, Mr. Crane, has been in an accident. He’d like her to stay with him for the time being.”  
  
Hunt’s thin eyebrows shot up. “An accident? Ms. Zhirova’s day just keeps getting worse.”  
  
“Why do you say that?” Root asked.  
  
Hunt sighed, looking down as she smoothed a crease out of her skirt. “Genrika was expelled not twenty minutes ago. I was just about to call Mr. Crane.”  
  
“Where is she now?”  
  
“In her room, packing.” The headmistress motioned for her secretary. “Tiffany, why don’t you show Ms. Gardener to Genrika’s room? I’m sure she could use some help getting her things together.”  
  
“Of course. Follow me.” The young woman said, marching back out the door with Root on her heels. She got two tours of the school as they went. One from Tiffany, citing facts and percentages on the building and its students, and one from the machine, telling her whose parents where involved in illegal activities and which students cheated on their tests. “Here we are.” Tiffany said, knocking on a door with the names Gen, Allison, Rachel, and Lexi on it.  
  
“Come in.” As far as Root knew, all the other children were in class, so it was safe to say the girl on the other side of the door was Gen.  
  
“This is Ms. Gardner,” Tiffany said, opening the door. “She’s here to bring you to Mr. Crane.”  
  
The girl on the other side of the door looked strangely unfazed for someone who had just been expelled. Her hair was a mess of golden curls, and a pair of big blue eyes dominated her face. Her limbs where long, in an awkward way that suggested that she was in the middle of a growth spurt but would most likely come out of it looking graceful and athletic. The most prominent aspects of her appearance though, were the clear look  of distrust in her eyes and the determined set of her jaw. She looked defiant.  
  
No wonder Sameen liked her.  
  
“I’d better get back to my desk.” Tiffany said, slipping back through the door. The room was silent as the sound of her heels clicking against the floor slowly faded away.  
  
“Who are you really?” Genrika asked, apparently deeming it safe to speak.  
  
Root reached for the buttons of her blazer, undoing them one by one before peeling back the fabric enough to show the medal that had been pressed against her ribcage.  
  
Gen’s face shifted through a series of micro expressions before settling on her original defiance with an added hint of distrust. “Where did you get that?”  
  
“You can call me Root. I’m a friend of Shaw’s. She told me to show you this so you’d know you could trust me.” Root explained. “I’m with Gen. You can stop worrying now, Sameen.” It was a pointless thing to say, she knew Shaw wouldn’t be satisfied until Genrika was within her line of sight, but she hoped it might help her relax just a little bit.  
  
Harold’s voice came on over the comms. “Please try to get Ms. Zhirova out of there as quickly as possible. If the threat is coming from within the school, someone could be coming for her at any moment.”  
  
“Do you need help packing?” She asked, scanning the room. Most of it looked like any typical fourteen year-old’s bedroom, but the area around Gen’s bed looked… barren.  
  
Gen kicked a suitcase at her feet. “A good spy is ready to leave at a moment’s notice.”  
  
“That’s it? One suitcase?”  
  
“And my backpack. Besides, it’s more than I came with.” She shrugged.  
  
“Alright then. John, we’re ready whenever you are.”  
  
“That was quick.”  
  
“She takes preparedness very seriously.” Root said, motioning for Gen to follow her. In her ear, the machine relayed a burst of information. “She says the exit at the bottom of the northwest stairway is safest.”  
  
“I’ll pull the car around.”  
  
“Is she here?” Genrika asked, hauling her suitcase through the halls.  
  
They reached a landing and turned to continue downward. “Sameen is waiting for us at the safe house. Well, she’d better be, otherwise she’ll be in very big trouble. And not the fun kind either.” She added under her breath.  
  
“And here I thought the flirting would be better without Shaw here.” John said. “I’m at the back exit.”  
  
“So are we.” The door opened easily beneath her hands, and she could see John parked along the curb, just a few meters away. Still, it was better to be safe than sorry.  
  
“You’re clear.” John informed her after a momentary hesitation.  
  
Of course she was clear, the Machine had told her as much. She just couldn’t shake the feeling that something substantial was about to change. The odds were in their favor though, so she set aside the gut feeling and returned to the safe sensibility of percentages and statistics. “I know. Just being extra cautious.” She said, guiding Gen to the idling sedan and sliding into the backseat with her.  
  
“We have her.” John informed Harold. He pulled the car onto the street while Root listened for the safest route. “We’re leaving the school now.”  
  
“Why are you guys being so…covert?” Gen asked. “I thought you were just here because I got expelled.”  
  
“It’s probably best that she knows the truth.” Harold sighed. “Although I would prefer you not frighten her.”  
  
“Don’t worry.” Root said, partially to Harold and partially to Gen. “We thought you might be in danger and Harold decided it was best to move you until we could be sure.”  
  
“You thought I might be in danger because I got expelled?”  
  
“Actually, we didn’t know you got expelled. Finch is sort of a stickler for the whole books and brains thing, by the way. You might be in a bit of trouble for that.” John chimed in from the driver’s seat.  
  
“Make a left here.” Root said before turning her attention back to Gen. “I’m sure it was all just a misunderstanding, right Genrika?”  
  
Her guilty smile said otherwise.


	2. Apologies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gen makes it back to Shaw's place and the team starts to dig into her case.

Shaw managed to stay put for a whole fifteen minutes after Root walked out the door. However, with her food finished and nothing to do but listen to the back and forth between the other members of the team, her feet got restless fast. Getting out of bed and into the kitchen was an infuriatingly slow process, but once she started moving around it was easier to keep moving than to stop.   
  
Everything took longer than usual to do thanks to the line of bullet holes up her body, but by the time John announced that they were on their way back with Gen, she had done the dishes, tidied up the living room (which mostly entailed rearranging an absurd number of throw pillows thanks to Root), vacuumed the rug, and was in the middle of buttoning up the fresh shirt she’d put on at a glacial pace.   
  
“Almost home, Sameen.” Root announced over the comms. “Gen has a very high opinion of you, by the way. You must have really impressed her the last time you saw one another.”   
  
She considered texting Root and telling her about the first time she’d met Gen — getting made by her after less than ten minutes of tailing her, then busting out of the back of a dirty cop’s car, ready to run through hell if it meant finding her safe again. She figured Gen had probably already launched into a recounting of her own version of the story though, and decided to let it be.   
  
Bear must have heard them coming because he bolted from his spot on the rug and over to the door, tail swinging back and forth a mile a minute. John was the first to step into the apartment, followed by a mess of blonde curls and a somewhat impressed-looking Root. “Shaw!” Gen’s suitcase hit the ground with a thud as the girl launched herself at Sameen with enough force to make her wince. “Sorry,” she said, taking a step back. “Are you okay?”  
  
She shrugged it off, pulling her earpiece out and sliding it into her pocket. “Occupational hazard. You’ve grown.” The top of her head was almost even with Shaw’s nose now, there was a good chance Gen would be taller than her one day.   
  
The girl’s face fell. “It’s been a while since I saw you. Your number stopped working.”   
  
Gen had taken to calling her once in a while, checking in every couple of months to let Shaw know that she was alright, but with Samaritan in play it hadn’t been safe for them to be in contact. Then, she’d been captured and been focused on regaining a measure of control over her body and mind again before getting caught up in new numbers. She’d thought about reaching out to Gen a couple of times since then, but decided it might be better to keep her distance. “Yeah, things got…complicated. It wasn’t safe for us to be in contact.”  
  
Shaw could tell she was trying to be understanding, but there was an underlying resignation in the nod Gen gave her. “I get it. Spy stuff.”  
  
“Hey,” Shaw crouched a bit to look Gen in the eye. “I’ve got your back, Kiddo. Don’t you ever doubt that.”   
  
That finally got a smile out of her. “I know.”  
  
“Harold’s on his way.” Root announced, walking past. “I’m going to go make up the spare room for Gen, would you check on the jello for me?”   
  
Shaw was pretty sure ‘make up the spare room’ was code for removing the weapons cache from the closet and putting blood-free sheets on the bed, but who was she to argue with Root’s techniques? “Sure. John, you want jello?”   
  
Root had been slightly off in her estimate regarding the time it would take to get Gen, but that meant that the three of them got to sit at the kitchen island with jello parfaits while they waited for Finch to show up. They were having a rousing discussion about wether orange or blue raspberry paired better with cherry when he finally knocked on the door.   
  
“Ms. Shaw, you’re looking well.” He said, limping into the roomy space. “And Ms. Zhirova, I’m glad to see you made it here safely. I expect there’s a discussion to be had about the matter of your expulsion, but for now there are other issues at hand.”   
  
“Do you know why someone would want to hurt you?” Shaw asked. “Did you see something, hear something you weren’t supposed to?”   
  
Gen shook her head. “I don’t think so.”  
  
“You’re sure?”   
  
“Yes. Maybe. I don’t know, I see a lot of things.” She said.  
  
“Could it have something to do with why you got expelled?”  
  
“I don’t know, maybe.”   
  
Finch cut in. “May I ask exactly why you were expelled? It seems it could be relevant.”   
  
Gen glanced between them before taking off her backpack and reaching inside. “I got expelled because of…this.”  
  
“A laptop?”   
  
“I believe she means what’s on the laptop, Ms. Shaw.” Finch said. Shaw was glad he wasn’t looking in her direction, because she gave him the mother of all eye rolls for everyone else to see.  
  
“May I?” Root asked, holding out her hands. Gen turned it over without any questions.   
  
“What were you doing with the laptop, Gen?”   
  
“Just little things at first. I changed a homework grade for my roommate once. I watched the other kids at my school. I’d set up surveillance for a couple of days to get dirt on the older kids, then take it down and set up somewhere else a few weeks later. I wasn’t looking for trouble, I swear.”  
  
“I’m guessing it found you anyway,” Sameen said dryly.   
  
“I got footage of one of the older students selling drugs to a sixth grader, but I couldn’t turn it in to Headmistress Hunt without her knowing what I’d done.”   
  
“So you sent her the video through an anonymous email?” Root asked, looking up from the laptop screen.   
  
Gen nodded. “The account automatically deletes itself after fifteen minutes.”   
  
“And that was the end of it?  
  
“Not exactly. I waited a few weeks to see what she would do, but nothing happened. I knew she had gotten the video, so I thought I’d look into her computer history to see if she was doing anything about it.”   
  
“When was this?” Shaw asked.   
  
“Last night. I…sort of broke into her office to replicate her hard drive. I was going to start going through the data today but Headmistress Hunt called me to her office after lunch and said that they’d found out about the grade I changed and that it was against the honor code so she had to expel me. I guess you guys already know the rest.”   
  
“Are you sure that nobody saw you going into her office?” John asked.  
  
“They would have needed x-ray vision, I went in through the vent.”   
  
“Of course you did.” Shaw couldn’t find it in herself to be surprised. “Why don’t you go unpack your suitcase while we try to figure this out?”   
  
“Fine. But you’re going to want this.” She said, plunging her hand back into the backpack and pulling out an external hard drive, which she set on the counter in front of Root. “That’s everything I pulled from her computer.”   
  
“You know there are better ways to get into someone’s computer, right?” Nevertheless, Root seemed impressed with Gen’s  determination.   
  
The girl shrugged. “I was low on time and resources. Besides, my laptop doesn't exactly have the kind of processing power I would have needed.”  
  
“Well, it’s a step up from hiding tapes in a payphone,” John said, raising his eyebrows.   
  
Finch picked the hard drive up, turning it over in his hands. “It’s a new age Mr. Reese. I’ll take care of going through the data you’ve collected, Ms. Zhirova. I think losing your computer for a few days will be ample punishment for this expulsion debacle.”   
  
“But I -” Gen started.   
  
Shaw cut her off. “Trust me Kid, it could be a lot worse.”   
  
“I was just-” She tried again.   
  
“We can talk about this later.”  
  
“But Shaw, I-”  
  
“Go. Now.”  
  
Gen heaved a sigh before hopping off her stool and walking to the spare room, Bear trotting curiously along behind her.   
  
It was silent until the door shut behind her and Shaw turned back to her team, all of whom were staring at her with various degrees of confusion written across their faces. “What?”   
  
John fought back a smirk. “Did you just send her to her room?”   
  
“What? No. Can we just focus on this?” She asked, motioning at the laptop.   
  
“Don’t tell her I said this,” Finch said, glancing between the laptop screen and the door that Gen had disappeared behind. “But, if Ms. Zhirova’s dream of becoming a spy falls through, she’d make a very qualified intelligence analyst.”   
  
“Or an excellent hacker,” Root added, still typing away.   
  
In the end they decided that Finch would take everything with him and try to sift through everything Gen had compiled while Reese looked into the school and Root and Shaw looked after the girl herself.   
  
“Look out Shaw,” John said, pulling a set of keys out of his coat pocket. “I hear they start acting out around this age.”  
  
The decorative pillow she threw at him bounced off the back of the door.  
  
“I think I’ll start dinner,” Root announced. “Maybe you should check on her.”

* * *

  
  
Shaw knocked a few times before she heard Gen say that it was open. She was sitting on the floor with her back against the bed and Bear’s head in her lap. “I like your dog,” She said as Sameen joined her on the ground.   
  
“Looks like the feeling’s mutual.” She took a deep breath. “Sorry I was short with you back there. It wasn’t your fault, I’m just sick of being cooped up.”   
  
“It’s okay. I’m sorry I got expelled.”   
  
She shrugged. “Eh. Shit happens.”   
  
“So what’s the deal with Root?” Gen asked after a stretch of silence.  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“I mean she calls herself Root. She’s cool and all, but a little weird right? How did you meet her?”  
  
She imagined ‘She kidnapped and impersonated someone so she could taser me and torture me with a clothes iron, then showed up in my apartment and tasered me agin so she could kidnap me’ might be a little much to digest, so instead she went with “We work together.”   
  
“So you guys are co-workers?”   
  
“You could say that.”   
  
“You guys don’t seem like co-workers.”  
  
“Well we are.”   
  
“Co-workers who live together?”“Yeah.”  
  
“Doesn’t sound like co-workers to me.”“We share a common employer, that’s the literal definition of co-workers.”  
  
“Is Root your girlfriend?”   
  
“No she is not my girlfriend. What are you eight?”   
  
“Fourteen.” Gen corrected her. “If Root’s not your girlfriend, what is she? And don’t try to say co-worker again, I’m not buying it.”  
  
“Technically, she’s my wife.” Shaw said, holding up her left hand for Gen to see the strip of titanium wrapped around her ring finger.  
  
Gen’s jaw went slack for a second and Shaw felt her own mouth twist into a satisfied smirk. She’d rendered the chattiest wanna-be spy on Earth speechless with four words.   
  
Sadly, It was a short-lived silence. “No way! You guys are married?”  
  
“Technically, yeah.”  
  
“When did this even happen? Wait, where you guys together when I met you? I feel like I would’ve known if you were seeing someone.”  
  
“Pfft. You thought John was my boyfriend.”“I asked if John was your boyfriend. There’s a difference.”  
  
“Oh, so you were just fishing for information?” Shaw asked. She didn’t even try to disguise her doubt.  
  
“Yup. And it worked too.”  
  
“That’s not fair, you annoyed that information out of me. You should be an interrogator, you might be the only person I know who could’ve given Carter a run for her money.”   
  
Gen stroked between Bear’s ears. “Who’s Carter?”   
  
Shaw tried to fight back the sour feeling she got in her gut every time someone brought up their old teammate. “Joss Carter. She was a friend of mine. Great in the interrogation room.”   
  
“That’s kind of a weird name.”   
  
“No weirder than Genrika.” She said, gently elbowing the younger girl. “It was just a nickname. Short for Jocelyn.”   
  
“That’s pretty. What happened to her?”   
  
“She died.” And we almost tore the city apart trying to find the bastard who killed her. She added in her head.   
  
“I’m sorry.”   
  
Sameen just shrugged again. “Not your fault.”  
  
“I know. It just seems like you… admired her.”   
  
“Yeah, I did.” She wracked her brain for something, anything else to talk about. She would have taken an astroid crashing through the ceiling at this point, so long as it got her out of this conversation. “Root’s making dinner. Are you hungry?”   
  
“A little. What’s she making?”   
  
“You wanna go find out?”   
  
Gen moved Bear’s head off her lap and stood, holding out a hand to Shaw. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've enjoyed this story so far, please leave a comment! I'd love to hear what you have to say, even if you don't think it's very important. I don't have any sort of update schedule planned, but if you guys want this to be a weekly/bi-weekly/monthly thing let me know. Until next time!


	3. Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gen settles into her new situation.

Gen thought staying with Shaw was pretty cool. They had quesadillas for dinner, and watched Mission Impossible, and she even had her own bathroom with a door that went straight into the guest room. Plus they had Bear, even though Root said he was technically John’s dog and Shaw had dognapped him. Either way, staying at Shaw’s place was fun.

 

Well, she guessed it was technically Root’s place too. She still couldn’t believe Shaw was married. She wondered if it had happened before or after they’d fallen out of contact. She couldn’t decide which was worse, Shaw not telling her something so important by choice, or the idea that maybe Shaw actually wanted to tell her but couldn’t because of whatever danger had forced her into silence.

 

There was definitely a story there too. Who, or what, had been able to make Shaw cut ties with what Gen assumed was one of a very short list of contacts? Just how much danger had she been in? Lying in the dark, staring up at the ceiling of her temporary bedroom wasn’t the time to be asking those questions. Gen turned onto her side and resolved to try and get some sleep.

 

From the floor came a low whine that pulled at her heartstrings. She patted the mattress next to her. “Okay, come on Bear.”

 

He didn’t need to be told twice.

 

* * *

 

 

“It’s nice to have you back upstairs with me.” Root said, pulling back the covers and sliding into bed that night. “It gets a little chilly without my personal space heater.”

 

“Yeah, well don’t get too cuddly, you’re on my bad side.” Shaw reminded her.

 

Root reached over and clicked off the lamp, leaving only the lights of the city outside washing over them. “You don’t have a bad side Sameen.”

 

“I have a slightly more perforated side.”

 

Root reached out to trace her fingers over the patch of gauze on the other woman’s shoulder. There was no blood, but she knew how painful the stitched-up wound beneath it must be. “You should take some pain meds. It might help you sleep.”

 

Shaw was shaking her head before the sentence was even finished. “No, if something happens I need to be able to protect Gen. I can’t do that if I’m all drugged up.”

 

“She’s important to you.” Root hadn’t meant for the observation to spill out, but she had to admit she was intrigued to see how Shaw would respond.

 

“It’s my job to protect her, Root. Nothing more, nothing less.”

 

“Really? Is it your job to go on a shooting spree though a drug den with no backup and a gunshot wound?”

 

“How did you..?”

 

“She told me.” Root said, tapping the scar behind her ear. “Now, you can convince the rest of the world that you don’t have emotions, or that all you feel is anger, but you and I both know that’s not true. You feel a lot of things, you just feel them in your own way. Your anger has a whole subset of related emotions. Which one did she tap into?”

 

Unsurprisingly, her little speech was met with an eye roll. There was a long stretch of silence before Shaw spoke. “I can’t explain it. One minute I’m sitting with her waiting for Reese and wishing she’d stop asking so many questions, and then before I know what’s happening she’s getting dragged away from me and it’s like…”

 

“Like you’d burn down heaven, and freeze hell, and kill anyone who stood in your way if it means you can get her back again.” Root supplied. “Even if it means she’s the only one who makes it out alive.”

 

Realization seemed to dawn on Shaw’s face as she turned her head to look Root in the eye. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.” Of course she hadn’t realized, but for months all Root had seen was dark hair and a pool of blood disappearing behind an elevator door. She’d felt that vengefulness, that protectiveness too.

 

“I know you don’t think you’re capable of it, but that’s love Sameen. Your version of it, anyway.”

 

Shaw gave her a long hard look before finally breaking the silence. “You’re such a sap.”

 

“But I’m your sap. You’re stuck with me forever.” She flashed the garnet on her left hand as emphasis.

 

“Go to sleep, Root.”

 

“Take your medicine, Sameen.”

 

* * *

 

 

When Gen woke up, soft morning light was sifting through the window overhead, giving a pale lavender hue to the grey-white walls. She stretched for a moment, taking in the threadbare room. Besides the bed, the only furniture was a nightstand that looked like it had seen better days and a stack of boxes tucked into the alcove under the stairs. Her few belongings had been placed in the closet to her right, save for the shoes she had left by the front door. Overall, the room was as impersonal and blank as she would have expected from Shaw.

 

Gen pulled a pair of socks on to protect her feet from the cold wooden floors and shuffled into the living room. Unlike the bedroom, everything in here seemed to have been selected with intention and she wondered who had chosen it. Maybe it was to offset the cool white walls and pale wood floors, or maybe it was just Shaw’s favorite color, but most of the furniture was somewhere in the black family. It probably wasn't what most people pictured when they thought of a cozy home, but Gen found a certain comfort in it.

 

She scanned the room to see where Bear might have wandered off to, but didn't see him. Maybe someone had let him into the room on the other end of the apartment? Gen walked over and eased the door open. Winter light was pouring through the balcony door on the other end of the narrow room. To the right, a long desk housed several computer monitors and a large cork board on the wall sat blank. The left wall was covered in wall-to-wall bookshelves, with the exception of a small window seat with a cushion.

 

Curious, Gen crawled into the little alcove, peering down at the world below. It had started snowing at some point during the night and the little flakes glittered and glinted as they spiraled downward, sometimes landing on the hats and coats of pedestrians on the sidewalk. From so high up they looked like little dolls, pulled along by strings she couldn’t see.

 

“Sameen likes that spot too.” Gen nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of Root’s voice behind her. “Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.”

 

She couldn’t help feeling like she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “No, I should’ve been paying better attention. I was just looking for Bear, I guess I got distracted.”

 

Root smiled at her, then walked over to the sofa and sat down with her legs tucked up underneath her. She was still in her pajamas too, with socks on her feet and a black sweatshirt thrown over her tank top. “Sam took him on a walk.”

 

“Oh.” She chewed her lip for a second, trying to think of something to say. Thankfully, Root swept in with a change of subject before she could blurt out something she might regret.

 

“I hope you slept alright. I know it can be difficult to adjust to a new place.”

 

Honestly, Gen hadn’t given it a second thought before dozing off the night before. Something about Root and Shaw’s loft made her feel  like nothing could touch her, like she was safe. It was probably the knowledge that Shaw was just upstairs and that Bear was curled up at her feet, ready to raise the alarm at the first sign of danger. “I slept fine. Bear’s a way better roommate than some of the girls at my school.” _My old school._ She corrected herself.

 

“Sameen would probably teach you some of the commands he knows when she gets back. They're all in Dutch, but I’m sure you’ll catch on.”

 

Gen smiled. “I’d like that.”

 

“Good. I’m going to go start making breakfast, you can help if you’d like. Pancakes are okay, right?”

 

And that is how Shaw found them when she returned, standing in the kitchen in their pajamas while Gen poured pancake batter onto the griddle and Root mixed diced ham into the scrambled eggs on the stove. “How was your walk, Sweetie?” She asked as Shaw kicked off her boots.

 

“Cold.” She said, hanging up her coat. “Do I smell pancakes?”

 

“I’m not sure if I should flip them yet.” Gen said, giving one of the pancakes an experimental poke with the spatula.

 

Root glanced over her shoulder at the griddle. “I think they’re ready.”

 

The spatula stopped short at the center of the first one she tried to flip. Gen pulled it back a little before shoving it forward again with a bit more force. It unstuck the pancake alright, but it unstuck it at a pretty high velocity into the back of Root’s head, then onto the floor, where Bear was all too happy to gobble it up.

 

She and Root both stood frozen for a second, neither one quite sure what had just happened until Shaw walked casually past on her way to Bear’s dog bowl and swiped a bit of batter out of Root’s hair. “Not your best look, Cupcake.”

 

After that, Gen couldn't help the fit of giggles that bubbled up.

 

Shaw offered to do the dishes since Root and Gen had made breakfast. Root had made a beeline for the stairs, presumably to wash the pancake out of her hair, and Gen had disappeared back into her room with Bear trotting along behind her. When Shaw found her twenty minutes later, she was curled up in the window seat of the library with a battered copy of _A Detailed History of Espionage_ in her hands.

 

“You know, I don’t think Root would mind if you borrowed one of her books. It looks like you’ve read that thing a hundred times.”

 

“I figured I should wait to ask, just in case.”

 

“Good idea. You never know if one of them could be a secret lever to the room he hide all our weapons in.” Shaw said, pulling the chair out from the desk and plopping down into it.

 

Gen watched her curiously, lips pinched together as she thought. “I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.” She admitted after a moment.

 

“Of course I’m joking. What kind of idiot stores all their guns in one place?”

 

“Root said you could teach me Bear’s commands.” Gen said after a small silence.

 

Shaw shrugged. “Yeah, sure. They’re easy enough to get down. Besides you already speak two languages, what’s a few Dutch words?”

 

“Four.” Gen corrected her. “I took Spanish and French at school.”

 

“You took _French_?” She asked, a hint of disgust slipping into her voice.

 

Gen clutched her book to her chest, hands barely peeking out from the sleeves of her navy blue sweater. “Yeah. They offered it as an extracurricular at my school and Spanish was starting to get too easy. Why don’t you like French?”

 

“It sounds like it was invented by someone who just got their wisdom teeth yanked.” Shaw told her. “Root loves it for some reason. She’s fluent.”

 

“Maybe you should learn too, Shaw. It’s really easy.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “Just because something’s easy, doesn’t mean you should do it. If you want a real challenge I could teach you Farsi.” Sameen wasn’t really sure what made her say that. For the most part she kept anything having to do with her family and her heritage on lockdown, but for some reason she wanted to share that little piece of her past with Gen. She told herself that reason was educational enrichment and tried to let it go.

 

“Or, I could teach you Japanese.” Root said, appearing in the doorway. “It’s a very useful language.”

 

Gen shrugged her slim shoulders. “I don’t see why I can’t do both.”

 

Root wandered towards the bookshelf, toes tucked into thick socks that slid along the hardwood. “You should start with this one.” She said, plucking a book from one of the shelves and holding it out. “That’ll get you started with the basics. Let’s see… what do I have on Farsi?” Her elegant fingers skimmed the ridges of the spines. “Here we are! The next three volumes are up here whenever you’re ready for them.”

 

“Thanks. I’m not sure if I’ll have time to get to them though. How long am I supposed to stay here?”

 

“That’s what I came down here to tell you.” She turned to Sameen. “Harold’s about to call. I think he’s made a break in the case.”

 

She was right, as usual. Just a second later Shaw’s phone was going off. “What did you find, Finch?” She asked, standing up and wandering back into the living room.

 

“Well, Miss Zhirova seems to have gathered a massive amount of data, most of which has been heavily encrypted. Even with her apparent knack for computers, I don’t think she would have been able to get far with these security measures.”

 

“Sounds like Hunt has something to hide. You think she found out that Gen had a copy of her hard drive?”

 

“It’s entirely possible.” Finch said. “Which means she could be the reason we received Ms. Zhirova’s number again. I’m sending Lieutenant Fusco undercover as a perspective parent this afternoon. Once he gets close enough to Ms.Hunt’s computer, I’ll be able to delve into her online activity since our young friend’s expulsion.”

 

Shaw continued her lazy stroll towards the kitchen, running her fingertips over the tabletop as she passed it by. “What are we going to do about that, by the way?”

 

“Well, Fitzhugh Quinell  begins their holiday break in a few weeks, along with most of the other schools in the area. Once we’ve ensured Genrika’s safety, I’ll start looking into other options for the start of the new semester.”

 

“Alright. Let me know if you find anything else.”

 

“Of course. I’ve sent Mr. Reese to assist you in looking after Ms. Zhirova for the time being. I’m certain that the sooner we can sort through all of this data, the sooner we’ll know what we’re up against, but it will go much more quickly if Ms. Groves is here with me.”

 

Shaw promised to send Root, then signed off. When she returned, Root and Gen were both crammed into her favorite seat in the library, poring over the book Root had given her on Japanese. It was strange, she thought. Shaw never would have pegged Root as being good with kids, but then again she never would have figured her for a good cook either. Apparently her little psycho was just full of surprises.

 

Root looked up from the text, smiling at her for a moment before letting out a sigh. “That’s my cue to leave. Practice those kanji.” She said to Gen before standing up and starting towards the door. “I’ll try to be quick.” She promised as she walked past. Shaw half expected her to make some sort of suggestive comment on her way out, but apparently Root had decided to reign in her flirtatious habits in front of their guest. Not that she was complaining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of right now my plan is to update on Wednesdays after I get home from work, so keep an eye out for new chapters in the evening. Also, the story of Root and Shaw's wedding has been sitting in my files along with this one. If it's something you would be interested in, let me know and I'll see about polishing it up to post. Until next time!


	4. On the Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team searches for answers and Gen adjusts to her new life.

By the time John arrived, Shaw and Gen were sitting at the kitchen island, Gen dutifully taking notes on the book Root had given her, and Shaw meticulously cleaning one of her handguns. “I don’t think I’m doing this right.” The younger of the two said, glancing disdainfully between the book and her own writing. “Does this look right to you?”

 

“Hell if I know. I don’t understand Japanese.” Shaw said, glancing over for barely a second.

 

Gen turned her eyes hopefully to John, who was crouched down scratching behind Bear’s ears. “Sorry. The best I can do is Cantonese.” 

 

Sighing, Gen set the book aside. “That’s okay. I guess I’ll just start on the next one.” She flipped through her binder for a fresh sheet of paper, then set aside Root’s book on Japanese in favor of the tome beneath it. “Okay, this is even harder.”

 

“What are you doing?” John asked, leaning against the side of the island. He picked the book up and examined the cover. “ _Farsi: The Persian Language, Volume One_.” He read aloud.

 

“Shaw said she’d teach me.”

 

“Really?” John glanced over at the woman in question, eyebrows raised.

 

Shaw just shrugged. “Kid’s gotta have something to do, I figured it ought to at least be something productive.”

 

John set the book back down. “I guess you’re right.” Something about the way he said it made Gen feel like he was trying not to say more.

 

“How do you pronounce this?” She asked, turning to Shaw after a few minutes.

 

The woman leaned over to see what she was pointing at on the page. “It depends on what vowel sound is attached to it.” She explained.

 

“The vowel sounds?” Gen muttered, flipping through the first few pages again.

 

Shaw finished reassembling her gun and set it aside before reaching for Gen’s notes. She pointed each sound out, explaining the way to pronounce them and having Gen repeat after her. “Texting Zoe?” She asked, glancing at John out of the corner of her eye.

 

Gen could've sworn he had to wipe a smirk off his face before answering. “Just seeing if Root and Finch have made any progress.”

 

“Who’s Zoe?”

 

“His girlfriend.” Shaw said, just as John tucked his phone away and said, “An asset.”

 

Gen rested her elbows on top of the counter so she could prop her chin on her hands. “So she’s your girlfriend, but you don’t want me to know she’s your girlfriend? What does she do? Is she pretty?”

 

“Pretty hot,” Shaw muttered, earning herself a deadly look from her coworker.

 

Gen waggled her eyebrows as she turned back to Reese. “So are you guys like, in love?”

 

“She is not my girlfriend.” He insisted again, shutting his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

 

“You know, for a spy, you’re not a great liar.” Gen said. “People tend to stop using contractions when they’re lying, and you closed your eyes when you answered me. That means you’re either lying, or you don’t know if Zoe’s your girlfriend or not. My money’s on the first one.”

 

Beside her, Shaw (barely) tried to stifle a snort behind her hand.

 

“What are you laughing at? Do I need to remind you of the time I caught you tailing me on my way to school?”

 

“That doesn’t count. How was I supposed to know what a weirdo you are?”

 

“She’s got a point Shaw.”

 

“See?” Gen motioned towards Reese. “I’ve got a point.”

 

“Practice.” Shaw ordered, shoving Gen’s book back in front of her. Then she pointed at Reese. “And you can shut up.”

 

“What? I didn’t say anything.” He said, pulling his phone out of his pocket and tapping at the screen lazily.

 

Gen went back to her work and tried not to giggle at the way Shaw was glaring at her friend.

 

* * *

 

 

Root was scrolling through a particularly boring thread of emails when her phone buzzed in her pocket. It was a text from John with a video attached. When she clicked play a shaky recording started of Sameen pointing to the note paper in front of her and reciting different sounds for Gen to repeat. She grinned at the screen then turned around to show Harold.

 

“I’m glad to see Sameen has found a way to bond with Ms. Zhirova.”

 

“Me too.” Root said, turning back to her computer. Almost as soon as she did her phone went off again. It was another text from John. _Did Shaw ever tell you about the time she got made by a third grader?_ There was another buzz as she read it and a second message appeared beneath the first two. _I’m sure Gen would be happy to tell you that story._

 

Root grinned down at the text before tucking the phone away. Gen was definitely a unique kid. Unfortunately, she was also in danger. With renewed resolve Root returned to the work in front of her, hoping to get home soon with answers in tow.

 

* * *

 

 

“Heil!” Paws clattered against the floor as Bear raced from one end of the living room to the other, coming to rest at Gen’s feet. “Good boy!”

 

There was a landing at the top of the stairs to the loft, which was where Shaw had been standing for the past twenty minutes while Gen worked with Bear. John had gone out to pick up lunch for the three of them half an hour ago, at which point Gen had called it quits on her Farsi for a while and reminded Shaw of her promise from that morning.

 

A ringing from Shaw’s pocket cut Gen off in the middle of her next command, reverberating through the open space. “You find something?” She asked, forgoing the niceties and trying to guide Root straight to the heart of the issue.

 

“I think so.” She said. “Well, _we_ found something. Harold’s been combing through Maureen Hunt’s finances and I’ve gone through all of her emails, and I think we might have found a pattern.” There was a click, then the sounds on the other end of the line changed, telling Shaw that Root had switched to speaker phone.

 

Sure enough, Finch spoke next, sounding a little echoey. “She contacts a particular email address and within forty-eight hours a large cash deposit is made into Ms. Hunt’s account. Their exchanges appear to be about mundane things, nothing that would seem out of place in an educator’s inbox, but the timing is just a bit too perfect to be coincidental.”

 

“The conversations are probably just code.” Shaw said.

 

“Our thoughts exactly.” Finch agreed. “It would appear that our headmistress is wrapped up in more than the education of her students.

 

“And I think I might know what it is.” Root chimed back in. “I’ve traced the account to a low-level drug dealer called Tito Lozano.”

 

“You think Hunt could be distributing?” Shaw asked.

 

“That would explain why she didn’t do anything about the footage Gen sent her. Plus, she’d be one of the first people to know if a student had a drug problem. She could have anyone on campus dealing for her. Ooh, and it looks like Lionel’s just patched us through to her computer. Much as I’d like to delve into Hunt’s internet history, I think I’ll let you handle it, Harold. I owe our friend Tito a visit and I’m just dying to see if he knows anything about who could be after Gen.”

 

There was some shuffling on the other end that Shaw understood to be Root picking the phone up and taking it off speaker. “Hey Root?”

 

“Yes Sameen?” Her voice was clearer now, definitely off speaker.

 

“Be careful.”

 

“I love you too, Sameen.”

 

* * *

 

 

Root really didn’t want to make a mess, but Tito Lozano made it so very tempting. He was a bit of a low-life and a bit more rude to her than was strictly necessary, but instead of getting things all obnoxiously bloody she did the right thing and left him tied up to a chair and gagged for his associates to find. As she made her way down the sidewalk she pulled out her phone and got Finch on the line. “Hunt’s definitely got something up and running at the school.” She said. “If she thinks Gen’s found her out, it would explain why she’s in danger.”

 

“Unfortunately, my findings lead to a similar conclusion. Ms. Hunt’s more recent financial activities include a large transfer to a Swiss bank account. According to Mr. Reese it’s congruent with the average going rate for a hitman.”

 

“Who hires a hitman to take out a fourteen-year-old? Even I think that’s low. She must be more desperate than we thought.”

 

“Desperate indeed.” Finch agreed. “I’ll work on tracking our possible assailant. In the meantime, perhaps you and Mr. Reese should switch posts.”

 

“Whatever you say, Harry. I’ll send him your way once I’m back at the apartment.” Root said before signing off.

 

When she walked through the door Sameen was clearing takeout containers off the counter. “How was your morning?” Root asked, crowding the other woman’s space.

 

“Fine. Gen and Reese are giving Bear a bath.” She said, nodding towards the bathroom door before she tried to duck away.

 

Root wasn’t giving up that easily though. With a quick tug on Shaw’s ponytail she had her right where she wanted her, pinned against the counter with her face tipped up at just the right angle for her to kiss. “Really?” Root leaned in until her lips were just a breath away from Sameen’s. “Mine was very boring. My mind started to wander…” And there was no question of where it had been wandering off to because as soon as her lips finished forming the words they were occupied with far more interesting things, like the tang of orange chicken lingering on Shaw’s tongue.

 

A laugh from the bathroom pulled her back to reality, forcing them apart after a moment. Root convinced herself to step off and focus now that she’d gotten what she wanted. “I found Tito Lozano.” She said, straightening up. “Sounds like our friend Maureen is the reason Gen’s number came up. She paid several thousand dollars to a Swiss account less than an hour after we picked Gen up.”

 

“Hold the phone. Are you saying Hunt hired a hitman because a teenager accidentally stumbled upon her drug operation?”

 

Root nodded. “She must be trying to cover her tracks. It’s a nasty business she’s caught up in, not something she’d want to get out, I’m sure. Luckily for us, we know someone who’s very good at dealing with potentially embarrassing situations like this.” Root said, marching over to the bathroom door and knocking a few times. “Time to dry off, John. I think you’ve got a date.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've gotten several requests for the wedding story, so I will definitely take the time to finish it up and get it nice and polished. It's not ready for publication yet, but I'll let you guys know when I plan to post it. For now, I hope you've enjoyed this chapter! If you have a moment, I'd love it if you left a comment. Even the smallest of notes helps me remember that there are people who enjoy sharing in this little world with me.


	5. Out of Sight, Out of Range

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunt's motives remain unclear, and the team comes up with a plan to protect Gen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo sorry for the missed update last week! I came down with a nasty virus and editing was the last thing on my mind. Hopefully this chapter is worth the wait. As usual, I'd love to know your thoughts, so please leave them in the comment box!

Something was wrong. At least, something was more wrong than it had been before Root left that morning. Since the hacker had returned, Gen had been confined to the living room, with all of the blinds shut and someone always casually blocking her from the windows. They hid it really well, but Root and Shaw were on edge.

 

For the time being she was curled up on the couch with her binder and the little stack of books from Root. With Shaw’s help Gen was finally starting to get the hang of Farsi, and Root had promised to take a look at her Japanese once she was done with whatever she was typing up on her laptop.

 

“Can we take Bear for a walk?” She asked, propping her elbow on the text in her lap. At her feet, the freshly washed dog lifted his head at the word ‘walk’ and perked his ears up.

 

“Not right now.” Root said in time with Shaw’s firm “No.”

 

“Alright, will you guys at least tell me what’s going on then?” They exchanged a series of expressions that seemed to encompass an entire conversation. “Whatever it is, I can handle it.” Gen insisted.

 

“We’ve had a couple of leads based on what we found on the hard drive you gave us,” Root said. “We aren’t completely certain, but right now our information indicates that your former headmistress may have hired a hitman… to eliminate you.”

 

“I knew it! I mean, not the hitman part, but I totally knew something was up with Ms. Hunt. She was always way too lenient with the troublemakers.”

 

Shaw just stared at her blankly. “Did you miss the ‘trying to kill you’ part?”

 

“No, but I figure there’s no reason to be worried. As long as I’m with you, I’m about as safe as I can get.” Gen said. “Unless you think it would be safer if I had a gun…”

 

“Do you even know how to fire a gun?” Shaw asked.

 

“You could teach me.”

 

“No.” She repeated firmly.

 

Root closed her laptop and sat up a little straighter. “Come on, Sameen. Just a handgun? It’s not like she’s asking to use the AT4.”

 

Gen glanced at her curiously. “What’s an AT4?”

 

“A grenade launcher.” Root answered.

 

“I haven’t even gotten to use the AT4. There’s no way I’m letting her try it out before me.” Shaw told her, gesturing to Gen’s gangly frame.

 

“How about we make a deal?” Gen suggested. “You give me sixty seconds to find a weapon somewhere in this apartment. Whatever I find, you have to teach me how to use.”

 

Shaw settled back into the couch, crossing her arms smugly. “Deal. Your time starts now.”

 

Gen nearly dropped her book trying to get off the couch before kneeling down to retrieve the handgun strapped to the underside of the coffee table and setting it in front of Shaw. She knew there had to be more where that came from, based on Shaw’s comment in the office. There were probably weapons hidden all over the place.

 

A search of the storage bins in the cubbies along the wall landed her a taser, and the underside of one of the dining chairs yielded a four-inch tactical knife. She almost missed the collapsible baton tucked in the top drawer of the bathroom cabinet. As she’d suspected, there was another, smaller handgun left in her bedroom, tucked behind the trim of the beat-up old side table.

 

“Fifteen seconds.” Shaw warned her as she laid it on top of the stack. Gen knew she had probably missed some things, but she was mostly going for variety over quantity. She could think of a few other places that might yield good results, but she was pretty sure she knew where to find the icing on the cake.

 

It took everything in her not to glance back over her shoulder to gauge Shaw’s reaction as she walked into the office and made a beeline for the window seat. Just as she’d suspected, there were pair of hinges under the soft cushion. Gripping the lip of the seat, she pulled up and reached for the prize inside.

 

When she walked back into the room cradling the sniper rifle in her hands, Root started laughing out loud. Gen was pretty sure she still had a few seconds left, but she decided to let them go in favor of grinning triumphantly at Shaw as she laid the gun down in front of her.

 

“Okay, we get it.” She said, grinding her teeth together. “Little Miss Hufflepuff is really good at finding stuff.”

 

“So, what should we start with?” Gen asked looking excitedly at the horde in front of her.

 

* * *

 

 

“I take it Zoe found something useful to do with our information?” Root asked. Holding the phone between her ear and her shoulder.

 

“Traded it to a journalist in exchange for a favor.” John said. “I have a feeling Maureen Hunt might make the front page.”

 

Good news then. “The question is whether her photo will involve handcuffs or not.”

 

“I guess that depends on whether the photographer or the NYPD gets to her first.” He said. “You making progress on our hit man?”

 

“Honestly, the deeper down this rabbit hole I go, the less our hit man seems like a hit man. This wasn’t the only transaction like this that Hunt made, and as far as I can tell, there are no suspicious deaths in her life following those transactions. So, either she’s putting out contracts on strangers, covering her tracks _extremely_ well, or…”

 

“Our first guess was wrong,” John finished for her.

 

Root nodded for a moment before remembering he couldn’t see her. “Exactly. I don’t think this is payment for services rendered. I think it could be extortion. Still, until we know for sure one way of the other, I want to keep Gen as safe as possible.”

 

 “How are things going with her?”

 

“I don’t want to brag, but I think this raising a kid thing is way easier than all those movies make it out to be. We’re really connecting, you know? In fact, Shaw’s teaching her how to use a stun gun in close combat right now.”

 

There was a long stretch of silence. “Alright, you’ve got me. What’s the punchline?”

 

“No punchline. They made a deal that Sameen would teach her to use whatever weapons she could find in the apartment. Shaw thought it would be best to start with the least dangerous one.”

 

“I’m almost afraid to ask what the most dangerous is.”

 

Root grinned to herself. “She found the sniper rifle in my office, but I think we might try to talk her out of that one until she’s a little bit older. I don’t know if she’d be able to handle the recoil.”

 

“Well as long as you’re being practical,” Reese said in a tone that dripped sarcasm. “I’ll ask Fusco to look things over with fresh eyes tomorrow, but for now I can pick Zoe’s brain about the extortion theory. Oh, and maybe don’t tell Finch about the stun gun training.”

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, John.” She hung up the phone and left the suite to lean against the railing of the loft. Down below, Gen and Shaw stood in the middle of the room with the furniture pushed against the walls. Gen held the stun gun in her hands, electricity blazing between the prongs as she watched Shaw for an opening to attack.

 

“You have to treat it as a fallback option,” Shaw was saying. “Your fighting skills should be the first thing you rely on.”

 

“What if I don’t have any fighting skills?” Gen asked.

 

“Then you’d better get good at sneaking up on people. That’s the only way you’re going to get to use that.” Root chimed in.

 

Poor Gen made the mistake of looking up at her and Shaw had snatched the stun gun from her hand in the blink of an eye. “No fair! Root distracted me.”

 

Shaw snorted. “Welcome to my life.”

 

“You’re plenty distracting yourself, Sweetie,” Root said, pushing off the railing and heading down the stairs. “I just got off the phone with John. It sounds like Maureen Hunt won’t be making it to parent teacher night… ever again.” She paused to take in the chatter in her ear. “Would you mind terribly if we had a few dinner guests?”

 

Shaw glanced between her and the clock on the wall. “Root, it’s not even four yet.”

 

“I know, but I thought lasagna might be nice. I’ll have to get cooking pretty soon if I want to be finished by the time company arrives.”

 

“I’ll give you a hand.” Shaw put away the stun gun for the time being and came to join Root behind the island. “Gen, you wanna help?”

 

For a split second Root couldn’t help but picture her as a little puppy, a golden retriever or maybe a poodle, excited at the prospect of following Shaw around some more. It was sweet, really. Gen thought so highly of Shaw, and Shaw seemed just the slightest bit more open since Gen’s sudden reappearance in her life.

 

It was nice to have someone else who saw the good in Sameen, Root thought. It helped her see it in herself.

* * *

 

  

“But Shaw, you promised,” Gen reminded her. They had helped out as best they could with the cooking before moving all of the furniture back to where it belonged. Root was still in the kitchen mixing up a salad while lasagna finished cooking.

 

“I’m not saying I’ll never teach you,” Shaw said, dragging her attention back to the conversation at hand. “You need to be able to hold your own in a fight before I give you a weapon though.”

 

“But if I have a weapon, I won’t have to fight anyone.”

 

“Maybe. Or they’ll just steal your weapon and use it to kill you.”

 

Gen’s response was cut short by a firm knock on the door. “It’s for you, Sam.” Root said. She hadn’t even looked up from what she was doing.

 

“How does she..?” Gen started.

 

“It’s a talent of hers.” Shaw let the door swing open to reveal John standing on the other side. He had a big cut on his cheek and some blood trickling from his nose, but he looked mostly alright. Shaw sat him down on the couch, then disappeared into the bathroom for a second.

 

“Haven’t you heard it’s dangerous to walk all alone at night, John?” Root smirked to herself as she peeked into the oven.

 

“You know, it might have come up in recent conversation.”

 

 “Was this before or after you got all beat up?” Shaw had returned with an abnormally large first aid kit. She kneeled down to examine the damage done to John’s face and neck , then flipped the kit open and motioned for Gen to come give her a hand.

 

Gen wasn’t exactly sure how Shaw expected her to help, but she came closer anyways.

 

“Definitely before.”

 

Shaw handed him a tissue to staunch the bleeding from his nose, then reached back into her kit. “The good news is, I can fix your face up and make you all pretty again. Hold this,” She added, handing Gen a bottle of rubbing alcohol.

 

John didn’t even flinch when Shaw started dabbing at the blood on his cheek with the cotton ball in her hand. Once the blood was cleaned away Gen could tell it was less severe than it had looked at first. “Doesn’t even need stitches.” Shaw said, pulling some small butterfly bandages out, along with a tube of ointment.

 

“I know, that’s not why I came by.” He said. When he shrugged off his jacket, it fell away to reveal a long gash on his bicep, maybe four or five inches long. Gen was starting to suspect the black upholstery on the couch was less of a style preference and more of a necessity.

 

“And here I thought you were just worried about your looks.” She glanced up at Gen. “You wanna learn how to give someone stitches?”

 

She wasn’t sure sewing human flesh back together was quite her forte, plus she didn’t want to mess up and have John be mad at her. “Maybe I’ll just watch.”

 

“Suit yourself.”

 

It didn’t take as long as she would have thought for Shaw to stitch Reese’s broken skin back together. She’d expected to be at least a little squeamish about it, but the disgust she’d been expecting never came and before she knew it Shaw was tying off the ends of the special thread she was using as another knock resounded through the apartment.

 

Bear made it to the door before Root did and Gen had to crane her neck a little to see who it was. Finch walked in first, followed by an Asian guy that Gen had never seen. “Daizo! What a nice surprise! No wonder She wouldn’t tell me who was coming.”

 

The new guy, Daizo apparently, responded in what sounded like Japanese. Gen wondered if Root had learned it from him.

 

“I do hope you’re alright, Mr. Reese.” Harold said, approaching the three of them. “I had hoped Lionel would be available to assist you with that particular… errand.”

 

Reese rolled the sleeve of his t-shirt down to cover the stitches and rose from the sofa. “No need, Finch. See? I’m good as new.”

 

Shaw put away the supplies she’d been using and gathered up the medical debris in her hands. “Come get cleaned up, you’re staying for dinner.”

 

“Well, when you ask so politely, how can I say no?”

 

Gen watched them disappear into the bathroom, then turned back to Finch. “I believe I have something of yours, Ms. Zhirova.” He reached into his satchel and pulled out a familiar piece of equipment.

 

“My laptop!”

 

“With a few modifications. I trust you’ll be more prudent in your technological endeavors from now on.”

 

There was a silent question hanging off the edge of the statement that Gen felt like she needed to address before she could reclaim the object in front of her. What was she supposed to do? Promise she’d never do it again? She couldn’t predict the future, and there was no telling what kind of situations could arise. She settled on nodding and taking the computer from Harold’s hands. “I think I’ll go put this away.”

 

She set the laptop next to her bed and plugged it in. She’d have to wait until later to see what Finch had changed, Root was in the kitchen telling everyone to sit down for dinner.

 

She ended up between Root and Daizo at the little dining table between her room and the kitchen. There were only four chairs, so Shaw and John ate at the island. It was sort of funny how similar they were, how they shared certain mannerisms like siblings raised together in the same house for years. Their shared experiences were probably a bit different than brothers and sisters had, and much more violent she guessed, but the outcome was interestingly similar.

 

“Root says you want to learn Japanese,” said Daizo. His English was concise despite his accent.

 

“I’m trying. It’s a lot harder than all of the other languages I speak.”

 

“You speak many languages?” He asked politely.

 

Gen shrugged. “Just a few.”

 

“Give yourself some credit, Ms. Zhirova. Many students your age seem to have a menial grasp of one language, never mind speaking four.” She wasn’t sure if Root and Shaw had told him, or if Finch knew about her foray into French and Spanish from her school records, but she was a little chuffed that he had recognized her dedication.  

 

“It’s not really that many.” She cut into her dinner and looked to John and Shaw. “I bet you guys probably speak a ton of languages.”

 

“Eight or nine.” Shaw said. “I’m illiterate in a couple of them, but I can make conversation just fine.”

 

“See? Four’s nothing,” Gen said.

 

“That’s hardly a fair assessment. Ms. Shaw has quite a bit more… experience than yourself. It’s only natural that she would know more than you.”

 

Shaw swallowed a big forkful of lasagna. “You calling me old Finch?”

 

“Or course not. I merely meant to remind Ms. Zhirova that it’s senseless to compare herself to someone with your level of training. Besides, I’m hardly the youngest person in the room.”

 

Root swiped a little tomato sauce off her lip with a napkin. “Don’t worry Harry, nobody’s going to be pushing you into retirement any time soon.”

 

There was a short silence in which the only sounds were chewing and the heater blowing air through the vents.

 

“So what’s the occasion?” Shaw eventually asked as she cut off a big bite of lasagna. Root and Finch shared an uncomfortable look as she popped it in her mouth and Gen had a bad feeling about whatever was going to come next.

 

“I’m afraid this isn’t exactly a celebratory dinner,” Finch said. “Mr. Reese and I have discussed the current situation at length, and we feel that for the time being it would be best if Miss Zhirova were to… disappear for a while.”

 

Gen’s heart leapt up into her throat. Disappear? Were they sending her away again? They couldn’t possibly have found another boarding school so quickly. Then again, with Finch’s resources anything was possible. She looked down at her plate so nobody would see the tears starting to sting the backs of her eyes.

 

“So that’s why Daizo’s here,” Root said.

 

“Yes. Maureen Hunt’s actions are still quite clouded in mystery. If she has done something to endanger Gen, it’s best that she stays where she’ll be safest,” Finch said. “As far we’re aware, anyone wishing her ill will wouldn’t know anything more about her than what’s on her school records, and nobody has seen a photo. Still, I would feel more comfortable knowing her identity is secure. I’ve asked Mr. Tatsuro to falsify a complete set of documents for her.”

 

False documents? “Does that mean I don’t have to leave New York?” Gen could feel a fleck of hope starting to burn in her chest.

 

“Quite the opposite,” Finch assured her. “I’ve been looking into schools in the city that are within a reasonable radius. I feel very strongly that it is in your best interests to remain quite close by.”

 

“Another boarding school?” Shaw asked. She sounded almost as unenthusiastic about it as Gen felt.

 

“Once Miss Zhirova is protected by her new alias, she’ll need somewhere to stay in the long term,” Finch reminded her.

 

Shaw glanced over at Root, who returned the look with only the slightest nod. Apparently that was all it took for them to make a decision. “Root and I were actually thinking that Gen should stay here.”

 

“Miss Shaw, are you certain?”

 

She nodded. “Why not? God knows we’ve got the space. Besides, Gen’s not a baby, she doesn’t need to be looked after all day every day.”

 

Finch looked more than a little surprised by the offer, but recovered quickly enough. “Ms. Zhirova? The choice is up to you.”

 

“You really want me to stay?” She asked.

 

Shaw shrugged. “It makes sense.”

 

“Yes, I want to stay.” She hopped off her chair and raced over to Shaw, throwing her arms around her. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you! Oh! Sorry!” She pulled away when she caught Shaw’s wince.

 

“Well, now that that’s settled, perhaps you ought to get to work on your new identity.” Finch suggested.

 

Root said something to Daizo that Gen didn’t understand and he nodded before marching towards her office with his laptop bag in hand. Gen looked to Root, who indicated that she should follow suit.

 

“I’ll help," Shaw said. "We need to make sure you’ve got a consistent cover story to go with all of your documents.” Gen wasn't sure, but she thought Shaw looked a little excited to get back to some good old-fashioned spy stuff.


	6. A Whole New You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Root and Shaw reflect on their decision and Gen puts a face to a name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for posting a bit later than usual, Halloween and family commitments made me lose track of time. Hopefully this chapter is worth the wait. For those of you who didn't see it yet, the prequel to this work, Married to the Job has been posted. I hope you guys enjoy it!

“So, this is the preliminary file?” Root asked, taking the folder Shaw held out to her and cracking it open. With the help of the Machine, she’d been doing what she could to protect Gen’s identity while Shaw helped her and Daizo with a cover story. With dinner finished and their work done, their guests had trickled out one by one. Gen had gone to shower before bed, leaving the two of them to pour a glass of wine and curl up on the sofa.

 

“You should have the final documents tomorrow.” Shaw confirmed.

 

Root began perusing the first page. “Genevieve Jocelyn Shaw. Four feet and eleven inches tall, blonde hair, blue eyes. Born April 12th, 2002 in Moscow, Russia. Adopted January 3rd, 2009 by Sameen and Samantha Shaw. Genevieve? She didn’t want to keep up the Sam tradition?” Root joked.

 

“I told her it would be easiest to pick a name that would let her keep Gen as a nickname.”

 

“I suppose she doesn’t really look like a Sam anyway,” Root conceded as Shaw sat down next to her on the sofa. “So, how exactly did you and I end up adopting a six year-old from Russia?”

 

“I’m going with the story that it was all your idea.”

 

“Because I’m so nurturing?” Root laughed.

 

Shaw shrugged. “You two haven’t exactly been at each other’s throats.”

 

“She’s a good kid. Smart. That reminds me, I was thinking I’d teach her some hacking. The things she’s managed to figure out on her own are impressive. Imagine what she could do with a bit of instruction.”

 

“I’m pretty sure that’s what Finch is worried about.”

 

Root grinned and rested her head on the other woman’s shoulder. “What Harry doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

 

“Doesn’t mean it won’t bite us in the ass.” There was a moment in which the two of them simply sat in silence, and Shaw could almost feel her head vibrating from the force of her own thoughts. “This wasn’t a mistake, was it? We’re not gonna irreparably fuck her up, right?”

 

Root looked at her in that way that almost hurt to withstand. “We are not going to fuck her up, I promise. We’re not going to be perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but I don’t think she’s expecting us to be.” Root paused, tugging playfully at Shaw’s hair, which she had finally let down for the night. “Look at me Sameen. We’ll do our best, okay? Besides, it seems the bar has been set low enough to step over.”

 

Shaw couldn’t help but smirk at that. “You’ve got a point there.” _Screw it,_ she thought. Maybe it was the wine, or the reassurances, or both, but Root looked damn tempting tucked into the corner of the couch with fuzzy socks on and her hair falling around her face. “Come here.”

 

Root seemed surprised but delighted by the demand. She set the file down on the end table (because they were the type of people who owned end tables now) and swung her leg over Shaw’s lap. “I’ve missed you,” she admitted, occupying her fingers with Shaw’s thick hair once more.

 

“I didn’t go anywhere.”

 

“I know, I just…”

 

Shaw’s hands had found a path up the soft denim of Root’s jeans, over her hips, along the sides of her spine. She smirked to herself as her wife arched into her touch. “Wish we could go back to Iceland?” Root nodded, practically purring. Their wedding, and the following honeymoon, felt like they had happened a lifetime ago, not just a handful of weeks before.

She didn’t want to admit it to herself, but it had been exactly what Shaw needed. A whole week alone with Root, reminding herself that she was real – that the two of them had come out on the other side with only a few new scars. It was stupid and she hated it, but she also couldn’t help the way her chest tightened when she looked at Root and remembered that this walking hurricane of a woman had looked deep into Sameen’s heart and still chosen to be her _wife_.

 

Shaw slid a hand up higher, tangling her fingers in the bronze fluff at the base of Root’s skull. “Well, we are still newlyweds.” It didn’t take much force at all to drag Root’s lips down to hers, and even less to tease them open with the tip of her tongue. God, she should be sick of this by now, shouldn’t she? And yet, she couldn’t find it in her to be bored of the way Root poured herself so wholly into just kissing her, or how she pressed Shaw harder against the back of the sofa with every insistent press of her wine-tinted lips.

 

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard the water turn off. That was bad, why was that bad? She floundered through the mental fuzz created by Root’s soft skin and her hands on the buttons of Shaw’s shirt. The shower… why did she care about the shower?

 

“Bedroom, now.” She was grateful that it came out in a sexy and demanding tone, not the slightly panicked one she’d been expecting. They might still fuck Gen up irreparably, but at least they wouldn’t scar her for life… this time.

* * *

 

 

Gen eyed herself in the mirror. For once in her life she was grateful for the ridiculous ankle socks that Fitzhugh Quinell required for their stupid uniform. The dark jeans she had pulled on were a little more snug in the hips than she remembered and the hem rested almost an inch above her ankle bone. The only thing standing between her ankle skin and the draft that permeated the main living space of the apartment was a pair of stupid looking ankle socks. It wasn’t ideal, but she hadn’t really had a ton of time for frivolous expenses over the past year, especially since she was in her uniform 80% of the time. She made a mental note to do laundry before bed and headed into the kitchen.

 

“Hey, how did you sleep?”

 

Gen climbed up onto a barstool to see what Root was doing. “Okay,” she said, watching as the taller woman finished slicing an apple. “Any chance you’re going to let me out of the apartment today?”

 

She could see Root mulling it over in her head, weighing the risks. After a moment she started to speak, only to stop and leave her sentence hanging in the air. Without a word she walked over to the living area and flicked on the television. On screen a pair of police officers led a dark haired woman in a suit out of a familiar old building.

 

“No way! Is that Headmistress Hunt?”

 

The news anchor that now occupied the screen answered her question. “…Miss Hunt has been the headmistress of the prestigious Fitzhugh Quinell boarding school for seven years. Some former students of the school have described her as ‘cold’ and ‘detached’ while others say that she was a very hands-on educator and mentor. We now join Darren Bartlett on location. Darren, what can you tell us about the situation?”

 

The screen shifted, showing a tall, clean-cut reporter and a somewhat stout detective with curly hair. “Well Candice, I’m here with the lead investigator on the case, Detective Fusco. Detective, what exactly has Miss Hunt been charged with, and should parents be concerned for the safety of their students here?”

 

The detective spoke with a thick accent, almost as if he were cartoon cop come to life. “I understand that a lot of people are worried, but I can tell you that if the NYPD had any concern for the safety of the students here, our criminal investigation would have been second priority. I can’t disclose the charges being filed right now, but the NYPD will release more details to the public soon.”

 

“This is good, right? Hunt was the biggest issue.” Gen tried not to sound overly hopeful, but she was desperate to get out for a while. It was easy to fly under the radar when nobody cared where she went or when. Now she had been under lock and key in the apartment for almost a week and she was going stir crazy. She missed being able to sneak away for a few hours and roam free in the city.

 

Root considered her answer for a moment, only to be cut off by a knock on the door. John was standing outside in his signature black trench coat, standing dead still. Over his shoulder Gen caught a glimpse of someone else. As they walked into the apartment, she could tell the other person was a woman, also dressed warmly in a long coat, though hers was cut elegantly to highlight her curves. Her hair was down, falling around her face in dark brown waves, and Gen guessed that she was a little older than Root, but probably not as old as Finch. She had a quiet sort of confidence about her, and although she couldn’t quite decipher it, Gen got a feeling that she was in the presence of someone dangerous. It was a stupid thought, especially since she spent all day with Shaw or John. This woman wasn’t dangerous like them. She had a sneaky kind of danger to her, like she could end your life without killing you.

 

“I hope you like the segment,” she said to Root, shedding her coat to reveal an equally elegant dress. “I tried to give Lionel a few pointers, but I didn’t get to stick around to see how he would do.”

 

“He did just fine,” Root assured her. “Zoe, this is Gen. Gen, I’d like you to meet Zoe Morgan.”

 

Right, John’s “asset” that he definitely wasn’t dating. Gen couldn’t wait to dig into that situation.

 

Zoe looked her up and down in a way that made Gen feel like her fate was being decided. “So, you’re what all the fuss is about.”

 

Root saved her from having to respond. “I hope you guys don’t mind looking after Gen for a few hours. I’d stay myself, but Harry really does need a hand at…the office.” She had pulled on her boots already and started working on her coat.

 

“I’m sure it’ll be fun.” Zoe said.

“Great! You know how to get a hold of me if anything comes up. I just restocked the fridge, so help yourselves. Sameen probably won’t answer her phone, but if you really need her she should be reachable through her comms unit. The ICE bag is in the bottom cupboard next to the wall, and there are phone numbers for a doctor and a lawyer we can trust on the fridge. Try not to need them.” Root gave her a warning glance as she ended her speech. “Have fun!”

 

“Wait, Root! You never answered my question.”

 

Root let out a delicate sigh, then paused for a few seconds, thinking. No, not thinking, it was like she was listening. “Alright, you can go out, _if_ John and Zoe say it’s okay _and_ you stay with them at all times. No sneaking off.”

 

Yes! Gen tried to keep her expression even. “I won’t, I promise.”

 

Root searched her face for any trace of a lie, then picked up her keys, apparently finding none. “Stick to crowded areas, and remember to use your cover. Your credit card is in my office. It does have a limit, so don’t try to buy a private jet.” And with that, she breezed out the door in her typical enigmatic way.

 

“I have a credit card?” Gen asked, a little too late.

 

John smirked. “Genevieve Shaw does.”

 

“Which means we have a date with the nearest mall.” Zoe decided. “Grab your coat, kiddo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Root is such a mom, isn't she? I love writing scenes with her and Gen. Please don't hate me, but from now on, I'm going to plan on updating this fic every other week. The rest of the draft is just portions of scenes that are really unfinished and not ready to be published yet. Hopefully you guys understand, I just want to take the time to make this really well done and enjoyable. The good news is that I've had so many great comments, and they keep me energized and inspired to work on this fic. So, if you've enjoyed it so far let me know your thoughts below. Thank you!


	7. It Takes a Village

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gen's day out teaches her a few things, and Root officially begins the transition from reformed killer for hire to wine mom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early chapter this week because you've waited long enough.

Zoe Morgan was a hurricane, and Gen didn’t know whether she should be awestruck or afraid. Eventually, she realized she was both. They’d stayed at the apartment long enough for Gen to have breakfast and toss the meager contents of her wardrobe into the washing machine, then squeezed into the back of a cab. Zoe hadn’t said anything, but Gen could tell she had noticed her stupid ruffled socks. Thankfully they were now hidden beneath her boots while her coat disguised her awkwardly fitting jeans.

 

“I get that you’re going for the whole ‘less is more’ approach, but there’s a difference between minimalism and only owning a week’s worth of clothes.” Zoe said as they browsed their third store of the morning. She’d promised to take Gen to some of her favorite shops off the beaten path when things cooled down, but as per Root’s rules, they had stuck to areas with heavy foot traffic and stuck close by one another. Zoe was constantly within arm’s reach, while John played the role of affectionate uncle dragged along on a girls’ day out. He played it well too. If Gen hadn’t known any better, she would have thought he was actually just wandering around the area in a state of pure boredom, instead of cataloguing exit points, vantage points, and potential weapons.

 

“I had more,” Gen explained. “I just outgrew them.”

 

Zoe laughed to herself. “I remember those days. I swear I woke up one morning and all of my pants were two inches too short. The good news is it’s almost over. You’ve probably got a few more inches to go, but you’re just about done. I’d guess you’ll probably end up about five foot five. John, what’s your guess?”

 

John looked up from the rack of graphic tees he’d been browsing. “A little shorter, I think. Either way she’ll be taller than Shaw.”

 

Gen stifled a laugh. She was already just an inch away from catching up to the self-proclaimed sociopath, though it was harder to notice when Shaw was rocking a pair of her beloved boots.

 

“Do you like this one?” Gen asked, holding up a charcoal top for Zoe to see.

 

“Enough black,” Zoe insisted. “You’re young and vibrant; you should have some color in your wardrobe.”

 

“It’s not black, it’s charcoal,” Gen said. Zoe gave her a look that said she wasn’t buying that for a second. “Fine, what about the red version?”

 

“Perfect!” Zoe took the crimson rendition of the shirt from Gen’s hand and tossed it over her arm.

 

“That’s not all for me, is it?” Gen asked, eying the mountain of garments over Zoe’s arm.

 

“We’re not going to get them all,” she promised. “I just want you to try them on.”

 

Gen heaved a long sigh. It was going to be a long day.

 

* * *

 

 

By the time they got home, Gen was exhausted and hungry. John got to work whipping up a late lunch for the three of them while she and Zoe went to her room with their bags.

 

“It doesn’t have much personality, does it?” Zoe asked, looking around. “I hope that closet is bigger than it looks.”

 

Gen snorted, pulling some jeans out of a bag. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Root and Shaw are sort of into the simple look.” She took the tags off the pants, deciding she wanted to wash the funky new clothes smell off of them before she wore them.

 

“Ha! You can say that again. Before they moved in here I don’t think Shaw had ever owned an actual dining table. The only reason they have one now is because Harold hates trying to get onto the barstools. He hired someone to decorate the whole place, but they left this room for storage. I’m sure Root would have done it if she had the time, but Finch refused to eat another meal at the counter.”

 

“Really? Well, that explains why the only furniture in here is a side table from 1987.” They both laughed, and Gen noticed that Zoe had a nice laugh. It wasn’t as put together as the rest of her. It was carefree. “So, how long have you and John been together?”

 

Zoe shrugged, folding a dark green sweater. “It’s…complicated.”

 

“Yeah, that seems to be a theme around here.” Gen tried to hide the frustration in her voice, but it didn’t really work.

 

Zoe set down the dress she had been admiring and looked Gen in the face for a long moment. “Alright, I’ll level with you. John has been my friend for a long time, and an ally of mine for even longer. I honestly don’t know how long we’ve been together. Sometimes people just go from being friends to something more without ever really saying anything about it.”

 

“What about Root and Shaw? Is that what happened to them?”

 

Zoe laughed once more. “Not exactly. Root didn’t make the greatest first impression on her.”

 

There was a knock on the door, followed by John announcing that food was ready. Gen wanted to ask more questions about Root and her relationship to Shaw, but shelved it for now. It was better to get her information from the source.

 

* * *

 

 

Root’s head was swimming when she got home late in the afternoon. She’d spent all morning undercover, monitoring their number from within his own office. She had wanted to spend more time following the trail of Hunt’s finances, but they were stretched a bit thin. Sameen would deny it, but she was pushing herself too hard. She’d been a terrible patient from the start, but she hadn’t given herself a second to heal since Gen had arrived. If Root could be on the front lines, it meant Shaw didn’t have to be. She knew her wife was bound to be cranky after a day of not getting to shoot anyone, but Root cared more about her safety than her happiness at the moment.

 

She kicked her heels off at the door and unraveled her scarf from around her neck. “Gen, I’m home!”

 

Gen was nowhere to be found in the living room, but the back of Reese’s head was visible over the back of the sofa. “They’re in the bathroom,” he said, turning to look at her. “How did things go with the number?”

 

She tossed her coat over one of the hooks next to the door. “All handled. Turns out his old employers weren’t too thrilled to hear he was back in town. Another one came in a little after noon. I told Sameen to come home and let us handle it, but you can see how effective that was. What about you, _Uncle John_? How did things go today?”

 

“Gen was on her best behavior.” He said, watching her pour a glass of wine, then pull a beer out of the fridge. She offered him the beer as she sat down on the sofa, and he popped the cap off, setting it on the coffee table. “Apparently her wardrobe left something to be desired, so we shopped all morning. Actually, Zoe shopped all morning. Gen tried on outfits and studied surveillance tactics. I made sandwiches for lunch. We ate and watched the discovery channel. Now she and Zoe are in the bathroom doing something involving tweezers and a bunch of goop from the beauty supply store. Any luck tracking Hunt’s money?”

 

Root shook her head. “Harry said he would try to work on it while I was undercover, but we’ve been a bit swamped today. I’ll have to work on it from here. But first, a drink.” She tapped her glass against his bottle and they both took a long sip. “Thank you, by the way. It was nice to know that Gen was in good hands today.”

 

“I still can’t believe you and Shaw are doing this. Are you sure you can handle it?”

 

Root took a long sip of wine, trying to decide how to answer. “We’ve accepted that we can’t give her a normal life,” she said. “In the end, it came down to whether we can give her a _better_ life. Gen is safe here, and I think she’s happy. Everyone says it takes a village to raise a kid, and maybe our village is small and unconventional, but it’s good. We’re not going to be perfect, or maybe even particularly good, but were _here_ , you know?”

 

John took another swig of his beer, nodding as she finished speaking. “That’s more than a lot of kids get.”

 

They sat in companionable silence for a minute, enjoying their drinks. Root turned when she heard the bathroom door open. “Ta-da!” Zoe said, stepping aside to reveal Gen. Her golden hair was straightened and French braided, showing no signs of her usual frizz. It even looked a little shorter and Root wondered if Zoe had trimmed it. Her nails were painted a soft pink color that had Zoe written all over it, and the outfit she’d been wearing that morning had been swapped out for leggings and a burgundy sweater dress.

 

Gen gave an awkward spin. “What do you think?”

 

“You look very nice.” Root said, trying to quell her discomfort. It was true, she did look nice. Her eyes were brighter than they’d been since she’d arrived, and Root thought that getting out had been good for her. “Did you have fun today?”

 

“John taught me a lot of cool stuff,” she said. “We may have gone a bit crazy with the credit card though…” She looked genuinely guilty about that part, but Root assured her it was nothing.

 

“I saw that bag you brought with you when you got here. Trust me, you needed this.”

 

John finished off his beer, grabbing the cap as he stood up. “Well, I’d love to stay, but someone has to go save Shaw from herself, and I think you have a dinner to get ready for?” he said, addressing Zoe.

 

“I do.” She sighed, turning to Root. “Call me though, okay? We need to get drinks sometime. It’s been too long since our last girls’ night.”

 

“Of course. I’ll set something up once things have settled down.”

 

Gen said goodbye to both of them as well, and then they were gone. Root set her wine glass in the sink, taking a moment to stretch her back and refocus for the work ahead.

 

“How was your day?” Gen asked.

 

“Long. And there’s still work to do. Care to join me in my office?”

 

“Sure. Let me get my books.”

 

A few minutes later they were holed up in Root’s office with the blinds shut and soft lamp light illuminating the space.

 

“Hey Root,” Gen said, peering over the top of her Japanese book. She had taken over the window seat again while Root worked at the desk.

 

“Yes?”

 

“What would happen to me if you and Shaw died?”

 

Root’s hands stilled, hovering over the keyboard. Where the hell was this coming from? “Well, that depends on a few things. Why do you ask?”

 

Gen shrugged, holding the book to her chest. “I just wanted to know. I mean, it could happen, couldn’t it?”

 

She didn’t want Gen to have to shoulder such a burden, but she couldn’t lie either. “You’re a very smart girl, so I’m not going to lie to you. It’s possible, yes.”

 

“And if it does?” Gen prompted.

 

“How much do you know about what we do? Be honest with me,” Root said, turning her chair around to look Gen in the face.

 

Gen mirrored her shift, closing her book and setting it aside. “You know what’s going to happen before it does, but you don’t get your information from the government, it comes from somewhere else. From the outside it looks like Finch is the one calling the shots, but he’s not. He bankrolls the operation, coordinates the team, provides a moral compass. He’s the man behind the curtain. John and Shaw are on the front lines. And you…you’re both, and neither. Everything you do revolves around the voice,” she tapped behind her ear, denoting where Root’s cochlear implant was. “The one in your ear? That’s the real boss.”

 

“Sameen said you wanted to be a spy.”

 

“Am I wrong?”

 

Root took a deep breath, trying to calm the racing in her brain. As usual, the voice in her ear cut through the chaos. T-E-L-L-H-E-R. It was decided then. “You’re right, but there’s more to it. I’m honestly not sure where to begin.”

 

“Who is it? The voice, I mean. Start there.”

 

Root smiled. “God. Or at least the closest thing to a deity that I’ll ever meet. She sees everything, knows everything, and learns more with every passing second.”

 

“That’s where you get your information? That’s how you know who to help.” Gen paused, letting the information roll around in her head. “She’s not human though, she can’t be. How do you know you can trust this ‘God’?”

 

“I know I can trust Her because I helped create Her. This iteration, anyway. And if anything happens to me and Shaw, She’ll look after you.”

 

Gen stopped again and Root could almost hear the thoughts buzzing around in her head. “What happened to Shaw?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“The last time I saw her in person she was…different. Then she went dark for so long I thought she had been killed, and now I find out that she’s not only alive, she’s also married. The Shaw I met when I was ten wouldn’t have even said the word ‘wife’ out loud.”

 

“I thought she was dead too, for months. I nearly lost my mind. We were in trouble, big trouble, and Shaw sacrificed herself to save the team. Our only way out of a shootout was an old elevator that had to be manually overridden, and I tried to convince her that there was another way, but she knew there wasn’t. She grabbed me and kissed me right there in front of everyone and I knew what she was going to do. It was the worst moment of my life, hearing those shots ring out as the doors shut and my friends held me back. We all thought she’d been killed.”

 

“But she wasn’t. She escaped, obviously.”

 

Root felt her stomach turning like it always did when she thought of those months of uncertainty. “She was kidnapped by our enemies. It took her months to find a way out, but she never gave up trying to escape, and I never gave up looking for her. We try to avoid attachments in this line of work, but there are just some people you can’t live without. John always says that just because we walk in darkness, it doesn’t mean we have to walk alone. I think that what happened to her while she was held captive made her realize that it was okay to not want to walk alone anymore.”

 

The conversation fell into silence for a minute and Root could tell that Gen was sifting through the information, analyzing and sorting it.

 

“When did she escape?”

 

“Last year.” Root saw Gen’s face fall and realized what she must be thinking. “She wanted to reach out to you, Gen. But when she came back to us she was…broken. We were in the middle of a full on war, and reaching out to you could have gotten you killed. I don’t know if she could have lived with herself if you’d gotten caught in the crossfire.”

 

“She’s not okay, is she?” Root could tell that Gen hadn’t wanted to ask the question. Maybe she simply didn’t want to pry, or maybe she was scared to let go of the bulletproof image of Shaw she’d held onto for so long.

 

Root had resolved not to lie to the girl, and she wasn’t going to start now. “No. But if I’m honest, none of us are. We’ve all got our demons, but hers are particularly violent.”

 

“Is there any way I can help her?”

 

Root couldn’t help but smile at that. “You’re already helping. She won’t say it, but she likes having you here.”

 

“Is there any way I can help you?”

 

Root considered it for a moment. “Actually, there is one thing you could do right now. Come show me what you can do with this.” She rolled her chair back to show Gen her screens.

 

“Challenge accepted.”

 

* * *

 

 

Shaw was close to giving in.

 

She had told herself she wouldn’t do it, but with every minute her fingers itched more and more for the bottle of pills in her bag. The wounds to her upper arm and abdomen had been glancing blows that would quickly scar and be forgotten, but her leg was a different story. The bullet had dodged the bone, but she knew she’d need physical therapy at some point if she wanted her full range of motion back. For now, she used every trick she’d ever learned to distance herself from the throbbing pain in her thigh, but it would have been so much easier if her assignment weren’t so conspicuously uneventful.

 

Root had tried to send her home, of course. Maybe if Finch had four more people on his payroll she would have gone. Gen still needed protection though, and the numbers hadn’t stopped coming. They’d been stretched so thin that Root hadn’t had any time to chase down leads on Hunt’s case, meaning all of the details were left to Fusco and the NYPD. If Root could just figure out the money trail, they could determine if Gen was still in danger once and for all. Either way the problem would finally be handled.

 

She busied her hands, pretending to type something into her phone so she wouldn’t grab the bottle of pain meds from her bag.

 

Out of the corner of her eye she could see a tall figure entering the auditorium. The number didn’t seem to notice, continuing to drone on about the important distinction between Greek and Roman theologies. “Consider yourself expelled, Shaw.”

 

She looked around to see if anyone had noticed him sliding into the seat next to her. If they had, they didn’t seem to care. “There’s still an hour left of class, John.”

 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to attend office hours afterwards. I need to see about extra credit. Go home, Shaw. Take something for that leg.”

 

She was about to snap at him, tell him she was fine, but they both knew she wasn’t. “Fine, but call me if you need backup. We don’t both need to be running on half strength.”

 

He nodded his agreement and Shaw got up to leave. She tried to ignore the pain as her muscles repositioned, trying to think about the fact that the guy who had done this to her was rotting away in a cell somewhere. It helped, but not much.

 

Bear was excited to see her when she walked through the apartment door, trotting over to get a good scratch behind the ears. “Hey buddy. You taking good care of our girls?” She was surprised John hadn’t stolen him back at the end of the day, but grateful that Root and Gen had the malinois there to keep an extra eye on them.

 

“I brought dinner,” she announced, holding up the takeout bag as she walked into the office. Root and Gen were both turned away from the screens in front of them to look at her.

 

“Hey sweetie!” Root abandoned her work and stood up, crowding Shaw’s space. She tucked one of her ever-escaping strands of hair back behind Shaw’s ear, then placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Go sit down. We can eat together.”

 

It wasn’t until they crawled into bed for the night that Root began to lecture her.

 

“You need to slow down, Sameen. I mean it.”  
  
“I’m fine.”  


“You think I don’t see you wincing every time you stand up?” Shaw couldn’t argue with that. “I’m saying this because I love you. Give yourself time to heal.”

 

“We don’t have time. The numbers keep coming, Gen can’t be left alone, and we’re already stretched so thin that you don’t even have time to trace Hunt’s accounts.”  
  
Root grinned in a way that she usually reserved for dirty thoughts or some sort of intellectual triumph. Shaw really hoped it was the second one because she was in no position to deal with the first. “Actually, I finally found the end of the trail while you were in the shower. You’ll never guess where it ended up.”  
  
“Well then you’d better tell me.”  


“Right back here. The money was bounced all over the place, only to end up right back under our noses. As far as I can tell, Gen is perfectly safe. I do need to go let Lionel know where the money goes tomorrow, though. He’s about to have another busy week with the DEA.”

 

Shaw felt a weight lift at the news. At least she could stop worrying about Gen all day. There was still plenty of other work though. “You should bust drug rings more often. It’s kinda hot.”

 

“Sameen…” Root’s tone was full of warning, but her smile said that she appreciated the compliment. “Don’t get me all riled up if you’re going to leave me hanging.”

 

Shaw reached into her drawer and pulled out a couple of pills, popping them in her mouth. “What makes you think I plan to leave you hanging?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know your thoughts down below, and don't forget to tune in next time for a change of scenery and a couple of new characters. See you then!


	8. On Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fusco gives Root a bit of advice, and Gen makes some friends who aren't brats for a change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! I hope everyone who celebrates it had a wonderful Thanksgiving. I had a busy holiday, but I'm really glad to be back to my routine, and I'm especially glad to be sharing this chapter with you.

Root woke up the next morning in a haze of warmth. She could tell she had slept in later than usual, but the Machine would have woken her if there had been anything important to attend to. She reached an arm out, grabbing her phone off the bedside table. Her only message was a text from John.

 

**All wrapped up. Tell Shaw to sleep in.**

The time stamp was from just after three in the morning, five hours ago. She set the phone back down, content to just enjoy being wrapped up in Sameen’s grip. Eventually Bear would need to go out and the real world would need attending to, but for now she indulged in the warmth radiating off her wife’s body and the serene look on her face.

 

Almost as if she could feel Root’s stare, Shaw began to stir. “What time is it?” She mumbled, stretching as much as her injuries would allow and pushing her hair out of her face.

 

“A little after eight. John texted a few hours ago. He said you should sleep in, and everything’s been taken care of as far as the number.”

 

Sameen rubbed her eyes. “I want to be mad at him, but I haven’t slept like that in ages.”

 

Root trailed her fingers along Shaw’s skin, drinking in the feeling of having nothing that needed their immediate attention. “Don’t be disappointed. The Machine says he didn’t even shoot anyone.”

 

“Where’s the fun in that?”

 

Root grinned, glad that Shaw didn’t feel like she’d missed out on anything. “Can we just stay like this all day?” She glanced down at the silver-grey sheets twisted around their naked bodies.

 

“Lovely as that sounds, we have responsibilities. Bear needs a walk, and you need to go to see Fusco.”

 

“Just five more minutes?” Root pouted. “You’re much nicer to look at than Lionel.”

 

“Root…” Shaw’s tone was not quite disapproving, but it also didn’t leave much room for argument either.

 

“Fine. I’m going to take a shower. If Gen’s up, you should bring her on your walk, help her get to know the area better.”

 

When she came down the stairs, dressed a little more casually than normal, Gen was standing at the stove. “Look, I made you an omelet!”

 

Root walked around the island to peer over her shoulder. “Looks yummy. I didn’t know you were such a chef.”  
  
“I just looked up how to cook them on YouTube. Shaw told me what you liked.”

 

“Well, thank you. How was your walk?”

 

“Cold as hell.” Shaw chimed in, already hallway through her own omelet.

 

Gen slid the food in the pan onto a plate and handed it to Root. “Isn’t hell supposed to be the opposite of cold?”

 

“Touché.”

 

“And you said you didn’t speak French.” Gen teased. She greased the pan again and started pouring in more egg.

 

Root, now seated across from the girl, took her first bite. It wasn’t bad, not at all. “Mmmm. Good work on this.” She pointed her fork down at her plate for emphasis. “How would you feel about a little field trip today?”

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“I’m not sure yet. I need to meet up with someone while they’re out of the office, and I thought maybe you’d like to come along.”

 

Gen nodded. “A field trip sounds great.”

 

“I’d invite you too, but…” Root trailed off as Shaw’s phone began to trill.

 

Shaw shoved the last bite of her breakfast in her mouth. “Duty calls.” She was quickly shoving her feet into her boots and shrugging on her coat. She moved behind Gen to deposit her plate in the sink, then stopped to ruffle her hair. “Thanks for breakfast, Kiddo.”

 

Root reached out and grabbed Sameen’s wrist as she headed towards the door. “Please go easy on yourself today.”

 

“Root, I’m fi-”

 

“Sameen, I mean it.”

 

Shaw paused for a moment, then let out a sigh. “I’ll do my best.”

 

Root gave her hand a quick kiss before letting it go. “That’s all I ask.”

 

“Bye Shaw!” Gen waved as she ducked out the door.

 

Root took another bite of her breakfast, watching Gen manage the food on the stove. “Hey Root, about my alias…”

 

“It was just a precaution,” Root assured her. “The Machine is still reinforcing your cover story, but Daizo and I can restore your old records if you want. You could even go back to Quinell if you wanted. It’ll be a little different, a lot of your teachers are being replaced, but you could see your friends again.”

 

Gen wouldn’t meet her gaze, instead focusing a little too intently on the pan in front of her. “Do I have to go back?”

 

Her voice was so small, so defeated when she said it that Root almost wasn’t sure the words had come from Gen at all. She pulled from memory everything she could about Gen and her school, and her heart constricted a bit. She must have felt so alone, Root thought. She was surrounded by rich kids who were shipped off to a fancy school where they wouldn’t be a bother. Meanwhile Gen had lost everything good in her life one by one, including Shaw. Her memories of that place clearly weren’t very good.

 

For a moment Root was furious with Finch for dumping her there to fend for herself like an unwanted kitten. She reminded herself that their lifestyle, their work, didn’t leave room for kids. He had done the best he could with the situation given to him, and it was better than letting Gen get lost in the foster care system.

 

“No, you don’t have to go back. You don’t even have to go back to being Genrika Zhirova. But, you do have to choose. Eventually you’ll have to go back to school, we can’t keep you locked up in here forever. When you go back to the real world, you’ll have to decide who you want to be – what you want to tell the people you meet.”

 

Gen chewed on that statement for a minute. “I want to tell them that I have a family. A weird family, but a good one. I want to tell them that there are people I care about, people who care about me, people I share my name with. Genrika Zhirova didn’t have any of that, but Genevieve Shaw does.”

 

“If that’s what you choose, Sameen and I will support you. I’ll tell you a little secret though… I really like Gen Shaw. She’s a good kid.”

 

Gen grinned, sliding her omelet onto a plate. “I guess she’s not the worst.”

 

Someone may need backup later in the day, but for now she was content to chit-chat in French with Gen and enjoy her food slowly. Surely the real world could wait a few more minutes.

  

* * *

 

 

When they tracked Lionel down on the fringes of Central Park, Root almost felt bad about interrupting his coffee break. A gentle snow had been falling since midnight, and the wind had let up for the time being, making the weather quite enchanting if one had the proper outerwear. Fusco was sat down on a bench, enjoying the view with his hands wrapped around a cardboard cup.

 

She held her own drink in her hand as she made her way towards him, boots barely making a sound against the snow. “Excuse me detective, I’d like to report a crime.”

 

“What’d you do this time?” He asked.

 

Root gracefully lowered herself onto the bench beside him. “Come on now Lionel, surely you think better of me after all this time.” They both knew she was no angel, and the look he gave her said as much. She reached into her bag and pulled out a file for him. “I saw you on the news the other day. I thought you did the NYPD proud. I hope you’re up to working with the DEA again.”

 

Fusco thumbed through the papers. “You know my supervisors keep trying to figure out where I get this intel.”

 

“And I’m sure they’ll keep trying. We both know She’ll protect Herself from those who aren’t ready for the truth. Not that they’d believe it anyway.” She took a long sip of her coffee as Fusco stashed the documents in his coat.

 

Gen had found an open stretch of grass about fifteen yards away, and was gathering up snow between her mittens to toss into the air for Bear. In her crimson peacoat she looked like a little drop of blood against the snow. Root watched the two of them play, running back and forth, leaving nonsensical tracks in the snow.

 

“So, that’s her, huh?” Fusco asked, following Root’s line of sight.

 

She nodded. “You think we’re crazy, don’t you?”

 

“I always think you’re crazy. Helping this kid might be the most sane thing you’ve done in a long time. I’ll be honest, it ain’t easy, but it’s worth it.”

 

“At least there are two of us. I don’t know how you manage on your own.”

 

“Honestly, I just feel like a huge failure in some part of my life, all the time.” Fusco admitted. “But, as long as he’s happy, healthy, and not breaking the law, I consider it a win.”

 

“Just those three things, huh?” Root watched Gen toss another snowball in the air. “So far so good. I’ll let you get back to work, Lionel. After all, you’ve got a lot on your plate.”

 

“Hey, don’t forget Lee’s birthday’s this weekend. Nothing big, just cake and skating at the rink he plays at. You guys should pop in. He’s still convinced that Shaw is Wonder Woman, and maybe Gen could hang out with some kids her own age for a while.”

 

Root smiled. “That sounds great. We’ll try to make it.”

 

Fusco promised to send her the details, and she refrained from reminding him that there was no need. With the rest of his coffee in hand, he headed back towards his cruiser while Root made her way towards Gen. “You mind making one more stop before we go home? We need to buy a birthday gift.”

 

* * *

 

Gen told herself she wasn’t nervous, but she could feel the shiny wrapping paper under her fingers slipping a little as she followed Root and Shaw into the ice rink. They had gone over their story too many times to count, and even filled in the rest of the team on her choice. As far as she was concerned Genrika Zhiroza was dead. Genevieve Jocelyn Shaw had ceased to be an alias, it had become her name.

 

It wasn’t perfecting their story that worried her, it was meeting Lee. She had almost told Root the other morning about the posts and the messages she’d seen shared between her old roommates. They were glad she was gone, which she had suspected from the start. Still, it stung to see that as far as they had been concerned, she was different enough to be interesting, but too different to be an acceptable association. _They don’t matter,_ she tried to remind herself. A couple of spoiled rich girls wouldn’t be the end of her.

 

Root’s colleague, Fusco, was standing near the door when they walked in, socializing with a group of middle-aged people that she assumed were Lee’s friends’ parents. He greeted them briefly, directing them to an upstairs viewing area.

 

She could pick Lee out pretty easily from the crowd of teens, not because he was at the center of the action, but because he looked too much like his dad to be reasonably passed over. When he caught sight of the three of them, he left behind the little group he had been sitting with and crossed the room. “Shaw! You made it!” He held his hand out for a fist bump, which Shaw obliged.

 

“You only turn fifteen once, right?”

 

“Not really a big deal, but I’m still happy you came out.” Gen could tell he was curious about Shaw’s entourage, but not sure how to ask. Shaw had told her Lee was totally in the dark about their work, and that all he knew was that his dad knew Shaw through his job as a cop.

 

“I’m Sam’s wife. I think we may have met in passing once, but I don’t think you’ve met our daughter. This is Genevieve.” Root said, placing a hand on Gen’s shoulder.

 

Lee offered his hand and she shook it, a little impressed with his natural charm. “Everyone just calls me Gen,” she told him.

 

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Gen.”

 

She smiled. “You too. I wasn’t sure what to do with this…” she said, holding up the gift in her hand. Lee insisted that she didn’t have to get him anything, but showed her to a table in the back where a collection of brightly wrapped gifts and bags with vibrant tissue paper on top had formed.

 

“I think we’re going to head downstairs,” Root told them. “We don’t want to ruin the fun for you kids.”

 

Gen double checked that she had the burner phone Root had given her, in case she needed an out from an awkward social interaction. She _had_ said to use it if there was an emergency.

 

Looking around the room, she could tell that Lee was the kind of kid that got along with nearly everyone. There were jocks, band kids, shy bookworms, loud goofy types, punks, and a couple of geeks with brightly colored hair all mixed together in the space. Gen was a little unsure how to proceed, but thankfully Lee swooped in to direct her.

 

“Do you want something to eat? We can’t get on the ice until the Zamboni is done clearing it,” he told her.

 

She soon found herself with a paper plate full of sugar and carbs, sitting down in a cluster with Lee and three of his friends. “Guys, this is Gen. Our parents work together. Gen, I’d like you to meet the poor idiots who spend nearly every waking moment with me.”

 

There were two boys and one girl amongst them. One of the boys was fast approaching six feet tall, with dirty blonde hair that fell around his ears, and green eyes. The other two looked as though they could be siblings, maybe even twins. They had the same warm brown skin and dark curls, although the girl’s hair was much longer and pulled tight against her head in a pair of braids.

 

“This is Wyatt Halstead, our best defender,” Lee said, indicating the unusually tall kid. Wyatt gave her a somewhat goofy little wave, dispelling the idea that he was just another stuck-up jock.

 

“Nice to meet you.” Gen smiled.

 

“And these two budding supermodels are part of our offense. This is Malcolm and Maddison Scott. And before you ask, yes, they’re twins.”

 

The girl, who wore a grey tee emblazoned with the phrase _hockey girls don’t give a puck_ , rolled her eyes. “Just call me Maddy. Only my dads call me Maddison, and that’s only when I’m in trouble.”

 

“Maddy it is,” Gen agreed. “So you’re all on the same team?”

 

Malcolm nodded along with the others. “The four of us have been playing together since we were kids. And we go to the same school too.”

 

“Because we just can’t get enough of each other. Where do you go?” Wyatt’s voice was surprisingly gentle for such a big guy.

 

“I used to go to Quinell, but my moms pulled me after what went down with the headmistress.”

 

“My dad said that was a huge mess. It’s a good thing you left,” Lee said. “Do you know where you’re going to go now?” When Gen shook her head, he suggested that she join them at Victor J. Walsh Public School.

 

“Your dad said the same thing, but it’s too far from our apartment. My moms have really unpredictable work schedules, so whatever we pick has to have transportation, or at least be close enough that I can get there on my own when I have to.”

 

Maddy swallowed her bite of pizza. “I thought your mom was a cop. Doesn’t she have a set schedule like Lee’s dad?”

 

Gen shook her head again. “She’s an independent contractor. She only works with the NYPD sometimes.”

 

“Like a private investigator? That’s so cool,” Maddy said, holding a handful of pretzels halfway to her mouth.

 

“What about your other mom?” Lee was apparently taking the whole ‘Shaw is married’ thing much better than she had.

 

“She works freelance in cybersecurity. Sometimes she has to travel on short notice for work, but she’s been working from home a lot lately.”

 

“Must be nice,” Wyatt mused. “My mom’s a forensic pathologist. So, working from home’s not really an option.”

 

“Eh, a couple of corpses on the dining table never hurt anyone,” Gen joked.

 

She was relieved when Wyatt and the rest of the group laughed. “Maybe not, but I have no idea how we’d fit them in the freezer,” he replied.

 

She was about to ask how he felt about his mom hanging around dead bodies all day when one of the kids close to the window stood up and announced that the ice was clear.

 

Gen tossed her empty plate in the trash and followed everyone down the stairs.

 

“Did you bring skates?” Malcolm asked as he descended the steps beside her.

 

“Actually, I’ve never been ice skating before,” she admitted.

 

Malcolm didn’t tease her for the admission, thank goodness. “Don’t worry, you can borrow some rental skates from downstairs, and I’m sure I can teach you the basics. I’m not saying I can turn you into Kristi Yamaguchi, but I won’t let you fall.”

 

 As she hopped off the last step, she scanned the lobby for Root and Shaw. A lot of the parents that had been there when she arrived had left, but about a dozen were still milling about. She saw Root first, standing near the far wall and (from the looks of it) charming the yoga pants off a couple of textbook wine moms. When she spotted Gen she smiled, giving her a little wave.

 

Shaw was standing by the door with her phone to her ear, looking a little annoyed. Gen hoped it didn’t mean they’d have to leave. She was actually pretty excited to learn something new, and Lee and his friends didn’t seem like they would laugh at her if she fell on her ass.

 

When Malcolm had helped her find a pair of skates she sat down on the bench next to him, watching how he laced his own and following his lead. When she was finished he stood up, offering her his hand. She stood up, then took a few shaky steps on the rubber floor. “You’ll get used to it,” Malcolm promised.

 

Several people were already on the ice, slicing new paths into the glossy surface. As they approached the narrow gate that would allow them to join, Gen paused. Wyatt and Maddy were blatantly showing off, chasing each other around in nonsensical patterns. She wanted to study the way they moved across the ice.

 

Malcolm stopped too, giving her a worried glance. “You okay? Seriously, I won’t let you fall out there.”

 

Gen nodded, not moving her eyes from Maddy’s feet. “I’m fine. Just learning.”

 

“Well you’re not gonna learn much out here.” Malcolm led her through the gate, taking her hand to steady her as she acclimatized to the new surface. Her first attempt to move forward had her wobbling back and forth, but Malcolm held her steady. She glanced across the rink and spotted Lee doing the same for a girl with dark hair that had been trimmed into a pixie cut.

 

She tried again, still holding tightly onto Malcolm’s hand as he lazily pulled her along. This time she tried to mimic the way Maddy moved, widening her stance and leaning forward. “That’s better,” Malcolm said. “I’m gonna let go, just try to come to me.” He pulled his hand away, gliding a little further away from her on the ice.

 

Gen pushed a little harder to keep pace with him, leaning slightly to turn alongside the partition. She heard the distinct sound of someone approaching behind her, and fast. “Who is _that_? Oh my gosh, it’s Gen Shaw. And wouldn’t you know it folks, she’s a natural!” Maddy flipped around, gliding backwards like her brother. “You’re one of _those_ people, aren’t you?”

 

“One of what people?” Gen focused on keeping her momentum, gaining confidence as she sped up.

 

“One of those people that’s just naturally good at everything.”

 

Gen half laughed. “Hardly. Your brother’s the only reason I haven’t bruised my tailbone.”

 

Malcolm was about to respond when something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. “Hey Gen, isn’t that your mom?”

 

Gen glanced over to the gate they had used to get on the ice and saw Shaw lingering behind it. “I should go see what’s up.” She made a beeline for the gate, only to realize that she hadn’t actually learned how to stop. The best she could do was hold her arms out and use them to slow her momentum as she crashed into the partition.

 

“I see you didn’t cover stopping yet,” Shaw teased with a smirk. She watched a few kids sail past them, and when she spoke again it was in Russian. “We have a new number. Finch needs us as soon as possible.”

 

“Already?” Gen hadn’t meant to sound so whiny, especially since she had been so uncertain about coming in the first place. Still, she was having fun learning to skate, and Lee and his friends had all been really nice.

 

“You don’t have to come with us. I called Zoe and she said you could spend the night at her and John’s place. She’ll pick you up at ten.” Well, it definitely sounded better than spending the night alone at the loft. “Call us if there’s an emergency, and try not to cause any trouble.”

 

“I’ll be good,” Gen promised. Shaw reached over to ruffle her hair, then turned to leave. “Ya lyublyu tebya!” Gen called after her, voice full of mischief.

 

Shaw stuck her tongue out, then closed the door behind her.

 

“Everything okay?” Wyatt asked. For someone so big he sure could move quietly. Gen hadn’t heard him approaching her, but now she could see Maddy, Lee, and Malcolm coming over to check on her as well.

 

She nodded, putting on a casual smile. “My mom just had to let me know that my aunt is picking me up.”

 

“Oh. I didn’t know you could speak…whatever that was.”

 

“Russian,” Gen provided. “And yes, it’s actually my first language. I also speak Spanish, French and a bit of Japanese and Farsi.”

 

“Oh my gosh, you totally _are_ one of those people,” Maddy said.

 

Gen rolled her eyes. “As soon as someone teaches me how to stop on skates, I’m gonna get you.”

 

“You’ll have to catch me first!” And with that, she sped away.

 

“Want me to kick her ass for you? I’m allowed to, she’s my sister,” Malcolm offered.

 

Gen shook her head. “I’ll get her myself, when the right time presents itself.”

 

She didn’t mean it, of course, but she liked that she and Maddy could tease each other. So this is what real friends are like…

 

She decided she could get used to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm betting you guys can guess what Gen said to Shaw. ;) Up next: A little bit of Root and Shaw on a mission, Gen and Zoe have a girls' night, and Grace tries to make everyone a little more cultured. Please let me know what you guys thought down below. I really mean it when I say that your comments keep me writing!


	9. Girl Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shaw and Root work through some issues, Zoe and Gen bond, and Grace presents a potential solution to the schooling situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, PLEASE NOTE THE NEW RATING. Mildly graphic depictions of sex beneath the first line, and mentions of said sex beneath the second. Second of all, THANK YOU for making this my most read story of all time! Additionally, thank you to everyone who has consistently been commenting. I know I say it every time, but engaging with the people who read my work keeps me inspired. I'm posting this a little early just for you guys. ;)

Shaw was kind of getting sick of people shooting at her. It was times like this, when she and her wife were side-by-side in a shootout started by their number that she missed sniping. A sniper’s nest was a peaceful place – quiet, isolated, and usually not full of gang bangers. The same could not be said for the warehouse that their number had darted into. And of course, Root was multi-tasking.

 

“It would be nice for her to know someone on her first day, but Walsh just isn’t a reasonable option. Besides, their science and technology programs are a bit behind the curve.”

 

Shaw waited for the shooter at her three o’clock to stop and reload before firing off another round. “You stalked Fusco’s kid’s school? Why am I even asking? Of course you did.”

 

“Gen needs to go somewhere when the new semester starts, and we’re running out of time to find somewhere that will be a good fit.”

 

Root lifted both of her guns, firing them off simultaneously while Shaw rolled her eyes. “Homeschool. There, problem solved.”

 

“Absolutely not! We clearly don’t have the time for that,” she said, indicating the general chaos around them. As if for emphasis, another of their assailants dropped to the ground, clutching his leg. “Besides, this is a crucial phase of her psycho-social development. She needs to be around kids her own age.”

 

Shaw fired off another round and three more men hit the ground, though one kept shooting, despite his injuries. “Okay, you’re officially banned from the developmental psychology section of the library.”

 

“I’m serious, Sam. She’s well above average. We can’t let her talents go to waste because we sent her to an overcrowded and underfunded school out of convenience.”

 

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we don’t exactly live in the projects, Root. The schools around us are probably pretty good.”

 

Root ducked behind her to reload one of her handguns. “I’m not saying they’re not good, I’m saying that they might not be _right_ for her.”

 

Shaw surveyed the damage in front of them, chancing a few steps forward. Ten busted kneecaps, three concussions, and one hand shattered by one of her bullets. Her eyes told her they were safe, but her gut said this wasn’t over. Their number was writhing on the ground, his gun just out of reach. With a grunt, he dragged himself across the concrete until it was under his fingertips.

 

He didn’t shoot though. Shaw followed his line of sight, realizing what was about to happen as he propelled the gun forward, letting it skid across the floor and into the hands of whoever had taken shelter behind the stack of wooden crates at her eleven o’clock.

 

“Root, get down!” She didn’t look back to see if her wife had followed orders, just charged forward. The man that darted out from behind the crates had to be at least a foot taller than her, but he wasn’t a good shot. The first bullet flew far to the right of her head, but the following shot struck closer, puncturing the wall behind her. The third shot never came.

 

The thug looked down at the gun in his hand, momentarily unsure why his defense had ceased. It would have been a little comical if Shaw weren’t out of ammo too. _Fuck._

 

Time seemed to freeze, then progress again in slow motion as they both surged forward with nothing to hide behind. He wasn’t fast, but he was strong and Shaw could tell. She ducked under his first punch, ignoring the pinch of pain in her arm as she elbowed him hard in the gut. He doubled over and she grabbed the back of his neck, using his momentum against him and smashing his face against her knee.

 

She stumbled back for a moment, regretting the instinct that had caused her to use her injured leg for the job. It didn’t hurt as badly as getting knocked on her ass a moment later did.

 

“Sameen!” She could hear Root behind her, but couldn’t see her. She had to keep this guy occupied.

 

She had to get up.

 

He didn’t make it easy, but she avoided the worst of his attack, rolling out of the way of his foot and dragging herself halfway up before he caught her jaw. Well, if she couldn’t get on his level, she was going to have to get him on hers. He wound up for another kick and she took her chance, kicking with all the force that she could muster at the back of his standing knee.

 

He came tumbling down like a block tower, hitting the concrete with a loud smack. Before she could move to subdue him he started to convulse, overloaded with a flood of electricity through his muscles.

 

“Thanks,” Shaw mumbled, swiping at the blood on her lips. Root said nothing.

 

* * *

 

In fact, Root didn’t say anything the whole way home. Shaw got the distinct impression that she had done something wrong.

 

When they entered the apartment Root led her in, leaving the lights off. Shaw didn’t question it, or really even mind. She thought Root looked inhuman with the city lights outside the window casting shadows over the angles of her face and illuminating her bronze hair. Root reached up with both hands to push her hair back from her face, and Sameen caught a flash of crimson as a fragment of light collided with her wedding ring.

 

“Are you okay?” Root looked at the floor as she said it.

 

“Root, I’m fine.”

 

“Good.”

 

Her back hit the door as Root’s hand wrapped around her throat and her lips found their way to Shaw’s. Root was furious, and the realization sent a jolt through her.

 

“You were stupid,” Root growled tugging at her hair, lips hovering next to Shaw’s ear. “He could have…”

 

Shaw fought back, turning her head until her lips and Root’s were joined once again. She grabbed Root by the hips, tugging her closer until it felt as though the space between them had stopped existing, then let her hands traverse upwards under the smooth fabric of her wife’s blouse, cataloguing the spaces between her ribs until her fingers collided with the lace of her bralette.

 

This could stay, Shaw decided. She ignored how Root nipped at her already stinging lip, focusing instead on the way the lace felt between her fingers and Root’s skin as she rolled one nipple and then the other between her thumb and index finger. Root’s head rolled back as Shaw stole a little moan from the back of her throat by running her teeth across her pulse point.

 

With a quick pivot, Shaw had Root up against the door instead and pressed her hard against it with her body. She could tell Root’s resolve was weakening alongside her grip on Sameen’s throat and decided to take advantage.

 

If Root needed an apology, Shaw would give her one. To hell with whether or not she knew what she was supposed to be sorry for.

 

She occupied Root’s mouth with another filthy kiss while one hand continued to tease her beneath her blouse, The other descended across her soft skin and to the button of her jeans.

 

Shaw spared a millisecond to be grateful she’d dressed casually for a change. She’d ruined more than a few of Root’s slacks out of sheer frustration. All the little clasps and buttons and zippers were always easier to tear apart than they were to undo. Today though, she made quick work of Root’s button and zipper, wasting no time and driving her hand between the taller woman’s thighs and slipping two fingers into her slick heat. _Fuck…_

“Sameen…” Root choked out, struggling to regulate her breath.

 

Shaw curled her fingers, brushing her thumb over Root’s clit. The predator had officially become the prey. “Yes, Root?”

 

Her only response was another gasp as Shaw repeated the movement, then began drawing her fingers in and out, tracing imperfect circles with her thumb. It wasn’t long before Root’s breathy little gasps became full on moans, which Shaw swallowed as she returned to exploring Root’s mouth with her tongue.

 

Another curl of her fingers had Root coming undone around her fingers, head falling back against the door, thighs quaking, and hands tangling in Shaw’s thick hair. Her orgasm had hit her hard, and Shaw could tell it was going to take her a moment to get her bearings again.

 

“You still mad?" Shaw asked, forehead pressed against Root’s cheek as she tried to steady her breathing. If that hadn’t earned her forgiveness, nothing would.

 

Root didn’t answer, just dragged her up the stairs to their room and handcuffed her to the bedframe.

 

She started by teasing her with little whispers of pleasure against Shaw’s skin, but Sameen could tell her penance was far from over. Root was going to make her beg, and from the look of things, she had all night.

 

* * *

 

 

Something wasn’t quite right and Shaw couldn’t figure out what. Root was lying naked next to her in bed, carding her fingers through Shaw’s hair as she came back down from her sex-induced high. Something about her was just…off. She was inches away, but her mind seemed much more distant.

 

“You in there? I miss my psycho wife,” Shaw teased, giving her a little tickle for good measure. Usually Root gave in at that, even when she was particularly distracted, but not today.

 

She gave a delicate sigh and tried to grin, but there was no sincerity to it.

 

Shaw looked her in the eyes, trying to find a trace of what was troubling Root there. “Talk to me. What’s the deal?”

 

“We can’t keep doing this, Sameen.”

 

Shaw furrowed her brow. “Can’t keep doing what? Having sex?”

 

“No, I mean the shootouts and the fistfights. We need to be careful.”

 

“Root, what are you talking about? You know ‘careful’ isn’t really in our job descriptions, right?”

 

Root sighed, then dropped a kiss on Shaw’s forehead. “I know, and it wouldn’t bother me if it were just the two of us. We accepted a long time ago that one, or even both of us might give our lives for the cause. And I’m not saying it wouldn’t be worth it, our work is important…”

 

“But,” Shaw prompted, sensing she was closing in on the heart of the issue.

 

“But, we have someone else to think about now.”

 

Shaw could feel her shoulders sag as she understood what Root was saying. “Gen. You’re worried about her.”

 

“The other day, when we were in my office, she asked me what would happen to her if you and I both died.”

 

Damn, Shaw didn’t know what she’d expected, but it wasn’t that. “What did you tell her?”

 

Root shrugged, brushing Sameen’s hair away from her face. “The truth. I said that it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility, but the Machine would protect her if necessary.

 

“You told her about the machine?” Shaw didn’t even try to hide the surprise in her voice.

 

“Actually, she figured it out herself. Not all the details, but enough to get a sense of the big picture.”

 

“Does Finch know?”

 

Root shook her head. “Not unless the Machine told him. Either way, that’s not the point. If something happened to us, I don’t know where she would end up. I know that things are different now than they were before, but…”

 

“You’re worried Finch would send her to boarding school again.”

 

“She doesn’t talk about it, and I don’t want to push her, but I can tell she hated it.” Root sidled a little closer, eyes focused on the ceiling overhead. “I just don’t know if she can take having her life upended again.”

 

“Gen’s strong,” Shaw assured her.

 

“She shouldn’t have to be.”

 

Shaw propped her head up on her hand so she could see Root’s face better. “Look, I wish I could undo Gen’s past even more than you do, but that’s not possible. What happened, happened, and now we’ve got to do what’s best moving forward. If it’ll make you feel better, we can talk to John and Finch about making some sort of plan for…”

 

“Our deaths?”

 

“Yeah,” Shaw stretched a little, happy to notice that her pain was improving. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go make some popcorn and try to think about something a little less depressing.”  
  
“Ooh! I want snacks too.”

 

Shaw stood up, tossing on the nearest shirt, which turned out to be Root’s. “I’ll bring you some of your stupid rabbit food from the fridge.”

 

As she turned to leave Root caught her hand, forcing her to turn back and look at her again. “Thank you for hearing me out.”

 

Shaw nodded, not really sure how to accept praise she didn’t think she deserved.

 

Root squeezed her hand before letting it go and Falling back on the pillows. “I’m so glad I married you.”

 

Shaw smirked, taking a moment to appreciate the view. “I guess being your wife’s not the worst.” 

 

* * *

 

 

“You guys really thought he could be a serial killer?”

 

“At the time, yeah.” Zoe tied off one of Gen’s braids and then started another. “When I saw him sit down next to Joss, my heart just about stopped. I’ll be honest though, I was also a little relieved.”

 

“You don’t think you could have done it?” Gen didn’t look up, just kept stroking Bear’s head.

 

“Not as well as Joss did.” Gen liked that Zoe was big enough to admit it. She always seemed untouchable to Gen, at least when she was wearing her armor of high heels and pencil skirts. But now, sitting on the living room floor in her sweats with Gen, she looked… mortal. “Thankfully, it turned out the guy was just a meticulous dater. In the end, all he really wanted was the chance to know his son. Last I heard, they were both doing pretty well.”

 

“What about you?”

 

“What about me?”

 

“Do you ever wish you’d had kids?”

 

Zoe chuckled, tying off Gen’s other braid and tucking it in front of her shoulder. “No. A puppy maybe, but no babies. Motherhood just wasn’t part of my path in life, and that’s perfectly alright with me. My only regret is that Miss Sameen “I hate kids” Shaw didn’t come to her senses and steal you away from boarding school sooner.”

 

“You really like having me around?” Gen blushed, grateful that Zoe was still behind her and couldn’t see it.

 

“Like it? When else am I going to have the opportunity to thoroughly spoil a kid without ever having to deal with the repercussions? I’m pretty sure being a cool aunt has been my true calling in life all along,” she said. “Well, _I_ like to think I’m cool.”

 

“The coolest,” Gen assured her.

 

“Thank you. And speaking of not having to deal with the repercussions of my spoiling you, your bedtime in this apartment is whenever you want, and there are three kinds of ice cream in the fridge. Which would you like?”

 

Zoe got up and Gen followed her into the kitchen, taking another look around the apartment as she went. It was smaller than the loft she shared with Root and Shaw, with only one bedroom, a large bathroom, a living room, and an eat-in kitchen. She wondered if John had picked the place, or if Finch had chosen it for him like he had picked the loft. It was nice, she thought – well decorated in a masculine way, but with a very obvious touch of hominess that she guessed could be attributed to Zoe. It seemed a nice blend of the two of them.

 

In the kitchen they surveyed their choices and Gen decided on mint chocolate chip. Zoe placed the carton on the counter to reach what she called “optimal scooping temperature” while they moved the coffee table in the living room and prepared the pull-out bed with sheets and pillows. Soon they were curled up with their ice cream in hand and Bear curled up at their feet with all the lights out, save for the lamp on the end table next to Gen. Zoe let her pick the movie, and Gen decided that the night called for something lighthearted, picking Legally Blonde.

 

“I’ll tell you a little secret about Harvard,” Zoe said as Elle struggled through her first day of classes on screen. “Their graduates commit the most tax fraud of all the Ivy Leagues on the East Coast.”

 

Gen let a chocolate chip melt on her tongue. “Says who?”

 

“Says the person that has to fix it when they get caught,” Zoe laughed, pointing at herself.

 

“So you’re a fixer?”

 

Zoe shrugged. “I know it may not be the most prestigious career, but it’s certainly not boring. I’ve always been good at figuring people out, making connections, convincing people to trust me… even when they shouldn’t. I can honestly say that I enjoy what I do.”

 

“Root says it’s important to follow your talents,” Gen mused.

 

“She’s a smart woman, your mom. She wouldn’t have been a bad fixer herself, if she weren’t so fond of dramatic exits.”

 

Gen had heard a few stories of Root’s proclivity for leaving chaos in her wake, and imagined John probably had even more.

 

“Shaw could never do what you do,” Gen thought aloud. “She’s a firm believer in letting people suffer the consequences of their actions.”

 

“You think she believes in karma?”

 

“I think she _is_ karma,” Gen smiled. Zoe laughed, setting her empty bowl aside and snuggling deeper under the blankets.

 

Both of them were fast asleep before the pivotal trial was over.

 

Gen woke to the door behind the couch opening, then closing again, briefly letting light from the hallway spill into the living area. She was still half asleep, but she could tell in the dim light of the lamp that it was John who had walked in. Bear lifted his head and thumped his tail against the mattress a few times, but didn’t move.

 

“Uncle John?”

 

“Hey kid. Sorry I woke you up,” he whispered, hanging his coat next to the door.

 

“What time is it?”

 

He spared a glance at his watch. “Late. Well, early. Time to sleep.” He walked around the back of the couch, crouching down to kiss Zoe on the forehead. She stirred, blinking slowly as she woke up.

 

“You’re home,” she mumbled, still mostly asleep.

 

John’s mouth slid up at the corner, giving him a lopsided smile that was all affection. “Are you staying out here, or do you want to come to bed?”

 

Zoe turned to Gen, slowly rising out of her sleepy haze. “You’ll be okay on your own?”

 

Gen nodded. “I’ll be fine.” Zoe got up and followed John to the bedroom after both of them had said a quick goodnight.

 

John paused in the doorway, looking back to where Gen was snuggled up on the sofa bed. “Bear? You coming, buddy?” Bear dropped his head back down, resting it on Gen’s legs and gave a few more wags of his tail. “Traitor.” And with that, John shut the door.

 

Gen gave the dog a good scratch behind the ears, then flicked off the lamp and settled in for the rest of the night.

 

* * *

 

Root took a long sip of her coffee, savoring the blend of sweet and bitter flavors.

 

“So, how is Gen settling in?” Grace had ordered tea and stirred in a just a dash of cream. Now she sat across from Root in a little coffee shop taking intermittent sips while they chatted with Zoe over drinks and pastries. Their little get-togethers were rare, but pleasant.

 

“Honestly, everything is going well. I think she’s getting bored, and maybe a little lonely, but that will be better once school starts. Most days she goes to the gym with Sameen, takes Bear for a long walk when he’s at our place, and works on her Farsi and Japanese. I’m trying to help her keep her French sharp too, but it drives Sam crazy.”

 

“How’s the school search going? I know you said she didn’t want to go back to Quinell,” Zoe said, sipping from her own cup.

 

Root sighed, despite her best efforts not to. “It’s surprisingly frustrating.”

 

“Harold asked me to remind you not to worry about any expenses. He still wants to ensure that Gen gets the best possible education, no matter the cost. If you can’t find a school you like nearby, he’s happy to arrange a driver for her.”

 

Root grinned. _Typical Harold._ “That’s very sweet of him, but it’s not the expense we’re worried about. It’s just hard to find somewhere that’s a good fit for her. And after everything that happened with Hunt…well, it just makes it hard to know who to trust.”

 

They sat in silence for a moment, all nibbling at their food. It was Grace who spoke up first. “Have you considered Zenith Day School?”

 

Root raised an eyebrow, surprised that Grace even knew about the little private school. “I have. Their curriculum is a bit unorthodox, but it seems to be producing good results.”

 

“The headmaster, Ezra Moore, is an old friend of mine. I teach a few classes a year for their advanced art students. In fact, we even ordered seats next to one another at the ballet tomorrow night; you and Gen should join us. One of his students is performing.”

 

Root’s ears perked up at that. She _did_ love the ballet, and Shaw would never have gone with her. “Are you sure?”

 

“Absolutely. I would love to introduce him to you and Gen. Zenith is a wonderful school, and I’m not just saying that for Ezra’s sake. The faculty alone should make it a serious contender.”

 

“Well, if they’re hiring you they must be smart,” Root smiled, then frowned into her drink. “Lionel keeps pushing for me to send her to Walsh with Lee, but the science and tech programs aren’t good enough to justify the commute.”

 

Zoe chimed in. “I’m sure Fusco’s intentions are good, but at the end of the day, you have to do what’s best for Gen.”

 

“I’ll arrange a pair of tickets for you two, unless Shaw wants to join?”

 

Root ad Zoe both laughed. “Not unless there’s a fight scene halfway through the show,” Root said.

 

“Only if someone tries to steal the snow queen’s tiara,” Grace joked.

 

“Speaking of queens and such, how are things coming along on the illustrations for that fairytale book? The sketches you showed us were so lovely,” Zoe said, picking up her coffee again.

 

They stayed and chatted for about an hour before dispersing. Root walked towards the subway with her phone in hand, listening as the Machine rattled off information on the Zenith Day School. Maybe she didn’t need to worry after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you think? I'm VERY interested to hear people's thoughts on this chapter. Also, I would love to post an extra chapter this month to celebrate the holidays! If that's something you'd be interested in, tell me what your favorite part of the chapter or story so far has been in the comment box. Knowing what you like allows me to write more of it, so don't be shy! Tune in next time for John being a good pseudo brother, a night at the ballet, and a look inside the Zenith Day School.


	10. The Godfather and the Nutcracker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shaw makes a request of her brother, while Root and Gen make friends at the ballet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick bonus chapter as thanks to all of the amazing reviewers who stick with this story! Don't worry, the regular Wednesday update is still coming too.

Shaw took another bite of her sandwich, marveling again at how someone who sometimes forgot to eat for entire days at a time always seemed to remember to make sure Shaw was fed. Then again, Root had made it part of her vows, and she suspected the Machine might have had a hand in reminding her. Either way, she was glad she at least had something to eat as she froze her ass off on a stakeout.

 

John had been as chatty as usual, which was not at all. Shaw could always count on him to let her lead the conversation, and decide if there was going to be one at all. Now she resented it though. She needed to talk to him and didn’t have any idea how to lead into it.

 

“Trigger finger getting itchy?””

 

Shaw swallowed. “Always. How’d you know?”

 

“Because you’ve been tapping the steering wheel for five minutes and it’s driving me nuts.”

 

Shit, he was right. She stilled her hand where it rested against the faux leather of their stakeout vehicle. “Right. Sorry.”

 

“You’re distracted.” It wasn’t a question, just an open-ended observation. Shaw couldn’t argue otherwise.

 

“It’s Gen.”

 

“Teenage angst starting to rear its ugly head? She was all sunshine and giggles with Zoe this weekend.”

 

“It’s not that. She just…she has this thing about us dying.”

 

“Morbid fascination?”

 

Shaw shook her head. Root was so much better at this kind of thing than she was. It was like she could always figure out what was going on in Gen’s head, and sometimes Shaw was a little jealous. “She asked Root what would happen to her if we died. Out of nowhere, just asked her about our apparently inevitable deaths.”

 

“Don’t sound so offended Shaw. It’s not her fault that everyone she cares about has abandoned her in one way or another. Besides, it could happen, couldn’t it? We came close to being wiped out by Decima more than once.”

 

Shaw let that roll around in her head. Gen had really lost everything, even her, at one point or another. Her mother had been imprisoned, her grandfather had died, even her useless cousin Vadim had been arrested. And Shaw had unwillingly cut her off for so long that Gen must have thought that she was dead too. And every time it happened, her life got turned upside-down.

 

Root was right. Maybe she really couldn’t take another loss. She certainly shouldn’t have to.

 

“I guess. We promised each other we’d be more careful, but…”

 

“You can’t promise to not die.”

 

“Pretty much.”

 

There was a stretch of silence in which Shaw took another bite of her sandwich.

 

“Would you do it?”

 

Reese narrowed his eyes at her in the dark. “Do what, exactly?”

 

“What Root and I are doing. Would you look after Gen if we died? No offense to Finch, but he’s not exactly my number one draft pick for the position.”

 

“And I _am_?”

 

Shaw shrugged. “Well, you and Zoe, yeah.”

 

“I gotta say Shaw, I’m flattered.”

 

“Don’t be. I’m just looking out for Gen, and that means making sure she still has people she likes to take care of her if I don’t survive the next gunshot wound.”

 

“So, am I like her godfather now or…”

 

“I swear on Harold’s good scotch if you start quoting that movie, I’ll shoot your kneecaps.”

 

“Just wondering. You know what they say,” he smirked, slipping into a ridiculous accent. “A man who doesn’t spend time with his family can never be a real man.”

 

Shaw ground her teeth, rolling her eyes at the stupid movie quote. “Something tells me I’m going to regret this.”

 

She picked up her binoculars again, finishing off her food. Maybe she should have gone to the ballet…

 

* * *

 

 

Gen gave herself a quick once-over in the mirror. She was lucky that Zoe had convinced her to get something a bit more formal on their shopping trip, despite Gen’s insistence that she needed only a few casual essentials. Zoe was adamant that every successful young woman needed a black dress for any number of occasions. Apparently hers was for the ballet.

 

She’d twisted her hair back into a style that the internet had claimed would be “quick and easy,” and smudged on a bit of tinted lip balm and mascara. _Not too bad_ , she thought, taking in the finished look. It could probably use some accessories, but she had a feeling her rainbow earrings weren’t going to cut it. She would have to do without.

 

“Gen, are you ready? Grab your shoes,” Root called from the loft. Gen shut off the bathroom light and went to meet her at the bottom of the stairs.

 

“What do you think?” She spun, letting Root take in everything from the not so quick and easy hairdo to the tights she’d spent ten minutes wrestling her legs into.

 

Root, who looked elegant as ever in a deep purple dress, tapped a finger against her lips. “It needs something. Come with me.”

 

Gen had never actually been in Root and Shaw’s bedroom. She’d thought about it, of course, and even considered sneaking a peek while they were both at work. Still, every time she found herself standing in front of their door, she couldn’t bring herself to open it.  

 

Now she followed Root up the stairs and through the door as if it were a daily occurrence. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but it wasn’t nearly as intimidating as she’d made it out to be in her head. In fact, the room was pretty typical. It wasn’t much bigger than her own bedroom, or much different if one ignored the furniture – the walls were the same barely-there grey as the rest of the apartment and the same tawny wood covered the floors. It was…cozy.

 

Root crossed the room, passing a big metal canopy bed with a pair of purple pillows on her way. She tugged the top drawer of the dresser open, then slipped her hand inside to pull out a smaller drawer attached to the inside of the first. Gen followed her, peering in to admire the modest collection of jewelry.

 

“I don’t have much, but everything is pretty versatile,” Root said, considering the options in front of them. She picked up a delicate pair of teardrop-shaped earrings and held them up alongside Gen’s face. “These ones are nice. Not _too_ flashy, but still pretty.”

 

“Are you sure? These look really expensive.”

 

“I’m sure they were,” Root shrugged, placing them in Gen’s hand. “Try them on for me.”

 

She had to admit, they did look really nice…

 

“Perfect,” Root said, looking at Gen’s reflection in the mirror on the wall. “Now, get your shoes and coat.”

 

They bundled up and slipped on their shoes (heels for root and flats for Gen) before heading down the stairs and onto the sidewalk. “If there’s anything you want to go over before we get to the theater, now’s the time,” Root informed her, flagging down a nearby cab.

 

Gen ran over their story in her head again, unable to pinpoint anything she was fuzzy on. “I don’t think I’m forgetting anything,” she said, sliding into the back of the vehicle.

 

When they arrived at the theatre Root paid the driver, then led Gen into the lobby. “Grace is this way.” Root took Gen’s hand and led her through the crowded space. Although they had only briefly met once before, Gen easily spotted Grace’s fiery hair in the crowd.

 

“You made it! And you look lovely,” Grace said, fawning over the two of them. She was also dressed for the occasion and holding a small bouquet of flowers and an envelope. “I already picked up our tickets from the window, and sent a text to Ezra. He should be coming over soon.”

 

Root and Grace chatted for a few minutes while Gen took in the people all around them. She tried to mimic some of the techniques she’d seen John use on their shopping trip, but didn’t notice anything suspicious.

 

“Grace!” The man approaching them was average height, with a smattering of grey in his light brown hair. Like Grace, he carried a bouquet of flowers, but instead of a dress he sported a classic suit with a festive tie. _Not all business_ , Gen thought. Maybe she would like him.

 

He gave Grace a brief kiss on the cheek, then turned to look at Gen and Root. “Girls, this is my friend Dr. Moore. Ezra, this is Harold’s niece, Sam, and her daughter, Genevieve.”

 

He shook their hands in turn as Grace introduced them. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Dr. Moore. I read your dissertation on the integration of curriculum and extracurricular activities. It was…visionary.”

 

“Thank you. It was the foundation on which I built Zenith Day School. Grace tells me you might be interested in a tour?”

 

Root looked over to her, letting Gen decide how to proceed. Gen gave her a nod and Root smiled. “I think we very much would. Why don’t we go find our seats and talk more about it?”

 

Grace pulled three tickets from the envelope in her hand, reading off the row and seat numbers. When they had found their seats and done a bit of shuffling around for the sake of conversation, Gen turned to Dr. Moore and asked why he had decided to start his own school.

 

He looked a bit surprised by her boldness, but nonetheless delighted. “Well, before I got my doctorate I taught in a few exclusive private schools, and there was always something about the school system that bothered me. It took me a long time to figure out what it was, but I realized that I hated the way that traditional schools approach the structure of education. Every student I worked with was so unique, and yet my superiors told me that the best thing to do was to treat them all the same. It just didn’t make sense.”  
  
“I couldn’t agree more,” Root chimed in. “I was what most would call a disengaged student. School left a bit of a sour taste in my mouth.”

 

“Well, in my experience, a lack of interest tends to stem from one of two things. Either a lack of understanding, or an overabundance of it. Something tells me you were the second kind…” Moore grinned.

 

Root shrugged. “Some things just made sense to me. Computers, for instance. I like to think Gen picked up her knack for them from me, but she’s leagues ahead of where I was at her age.”

 

“Technology is so fascinating, isn’t it? I don’t think there’s been another instance in which educators have seen such a rapid development in a teachable field before,” Moore said. “I have to give due credit to our head of science and technology. Miss Osman always seems to be right in step with the latest technological developments. Honestly, the capabilities of some of these programs is…astounding.”

 

Gen and Root shared the briefest of glances. _He has no idea…_

 

“I saw on your website that you offer independent study,” Gen said. “If I wanted to, could I do coding for that?”

 

Moore nodded. “You could, but not until next year. We only offer that option to our high schoolers. Although, I’m sure Miss Osman would have no problem using the upcoming semester to lay some groundwork for that. I’ll make sure she’s on hand when you come in for your tour. Is there anyone else you’re especially interested in meeting?”

 

Before gen could shake her head, Grace chimed in. “Gen’s quite the linguist,” she said. “Maybe she’d like to be introduced to Mr. Linares?”

 

“Is that so?” Moore looked as though he’d had proud parents make similar claims before. “What other language do you study?”

 

“Actually, Gen speaks a few languages. She’s fluent in English and Russian, nearly fluent in Spanish and French, and learning a bit of Japanese and Farsi on the side.”

 

Gen felt a blush crawl across her cheeks. “ _Mom_!”

 

Now Moore looked impressed. “A linguist indeed. I’ll have Mr. Linares available as well then. I was hoping to have you visit while classes are still in session, but our winter break starts the day after tomorrow. I’m sure you need more advanced notice…”

 

“Our schedules are extremely flexible,” Root assured him. “If you have the time tomorrow, we can be there.”  
  
“Excellent!” Moore started typing away at his phone. “How does one in the afternoon sound? Our student ambassador can give Gen a tour, introduce her to Miss Osman and Mr. Linares, and you and your husband can join me for the parent interview.”

 

“My wife, actually,” Root corrected him. “And that sounds lovely.”

 

To his credit, Dr. Moore recovered quickly. Gen still couldn’t believe how easily the word ‘wife’ slipped from Root’s lips. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to assume…”

 

Root assured him that she took no offense, though Gen got the feeling he would think twice about assuming next time. Thankfully, the lights in the theater began to dim, sparing them from further awkwardness. As the opening scene began to play out, Moore pointed out a petite thing in a Victorian style costume and identified her as his student. When an extravagant man in a cape presented her with a nutcracker, Gen realized that Moore’s student was dancing the part of Clara.

 

She peeked at the program she’d received at the door, sliding her finger along the page until she found the name listed across from Clara… _Marissa Lawrence_.

 

It wasn’t until the show was over and the girl came hurrying towards them in the lobby that Gen realized that the two of them were probably about the same age. She was still in her costume, weaving gracefully through the crowd with her light brown curls springing around her neck.

 

“Dr. Moore! Miss Hendricks!” She waved, pulling the two of them out of their conversation.

 

As she got closer, Gen could see why she’d thought the girl was younger. She was petite, probably an inch or two shy of five feet tall, with delicate features and big grey eyes. Innocence clung to her features in a way that made Gen think she’d never look her age, even in her eighties.

 

“Well done,” Moore said as she came within their little cluster. Around them, the thick crowd of people continued to stir, some heading for the exit, others waiting to meet dancers. “You were wonderful.”

 

“Stunning,” Grace agreed. She held out the bouquet she’d been carefully cradling most of the night, and Moore followed suit. “These are for you.”

 

Marissa took Grace’s arrangement, then Moore’s, thanking them in turn. “I don’t want to keep you too long,” Moore said, “but I wanted to introduce you to someone. This is Genevieve. She’s thinking of joining us at ZDS.”

 

Marissa, whose hands were too full to shake, offered a little curtsy instead. “Pleasure to meet you, Genevieve. I really hope you’ll consider coming to Zenith. It’s a special place.”

 

“I’m coming by for a tour tomorrow,” Gen informed her. “Maybe I’ll see you there.”

 

Marissa gave her a genuine smile that seemed to make her glow from the inside out. “I’m sure you will.”

 

As she and Root rode home in a cab, she thought a new school might not be so bad with a friendly face around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has commented, whether it was just once, or every single time. You guys are the best! Next time: The family FINALLY makes it to the school, and a bit of festive planning is set in motion.


	11. A Nice, Normal Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is still getting used to the family thing, but they're figuring it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the super late upload! The holiday really kicked me in the butt. Hopefully this extra long chapter makes up for the wait!

Shaw would never admit it, but she hated sleeping alone. Years ago, she would have laughed in the face of whoever tried to tell her that she’d have a hard time sleeping without her wife curled up at her side, but now it was a bizarre reality. She was still sleepy when she woke, but with the right side of the bed empty, she knew she wouldn’t get back to the deep and dreamless sleep she’d been enjoying.

 

Instead she stayed still, resting her eyes and running through the list of things she wanted to get done before the week was out. She wasn’t nearly as enthusiastic about the holidays as Root, but she was willing to indulge her wife’s festive inclinations. Plus, she really did enjoy the gift giving aspect of it all. To Shaw, giving someone the perfect gift was a victory – the payoff of good recon and a great hunt for just the thing that would make the recipient ask how she knew it was exactly what they wanted.

 

There were still gifts to be purchased, a tree to be acquired and decorated, and copious amounts of desserts to be baked before the team came over on Christmas Eve. She made a mental note to try and coordinate a plan with Zoe and Grace too. She had a surprise in mind for Gen that would require their help.

 

She heard the shower shut off in the bathroom next door, followed by the familiar sounds of Root shuffling around as she fixed her hair and dressed. Shaw could almost picture her shuffling around in her fluffy purple robe, humming absentmindedly as she plugged in her hairdryer.

 

For a while she floated along in that particular place between sleep and wakefulness that she cherished. In it, she was both fully relaxed and fully aware – resting, but not vulnerable. As she drifted, she heard Root exit the bathroom, visualized her shuffling across the bedroom floor towards the bed, then finally felt her plant her hands on either side of Shaw’s body and bury her face in the crook of her wife’s neck.

 

“Sameeeeen,” Root whispered, peppering kisses up and down her throat. “Are you awake? We have a parent interview at Zenith today.”

 

Shaw slid her hands up Root’s arms, over her shoulders, and up to her face, drawing her down to kiss her properly. They had things to do, but Root was just so tempting sometimes, and entirely too perfect looking in her pencil skirt and blazer for Shaw to not want to get her a little mussed up.

 

Root smiled into the kiss for a second before pulling away. “Tonight,” she promised. “You need to go get ready.” She stood up and checked her French twist in one of the mirrors on the wall, then turned to walk out of the room. “We can get brunch at that place around the block, if you’re quick.”

 

Shaw hurried through her shower, towel dried her hair and changed into slacks and a red top that she knew Root was particularly fond of. When she had finished pulling back half of her hair and found a pair of shoes that would soften the height difference between her and her wife, she headed downstairs to rally the troops. Gen was sitting on one of the stools in the kitchen, chatting away in French while Root braided the edges of her hair back across the top of her head.

 

Root made good on her promise, and the three of them enjoyed brunch at a little diner tucked away in an inconspicuous building. Shaw could tell Gen was practicing her surveillance techniques, though an untrained eye would have assumed she was simply glancing at the outdated décor. They talked about the school for a bit, and Root insisted that all the staff passed rigorous background checks. To Shaw it sounded like she was comforting herself with the information more than anything else.

 

When their food was gone, it became clear that the time had come to head to the school. They took the subway so that Gen would know how to get there on her own if both of them were on missions. It was a single stop trip and a short walk to the front doors of what had once been a factory. Gen paused in front of the door, waiting for the locking mechanism to be activated by someone inside the building.

 

“A nice, normal family…” she muttered to herself.

 

Root put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s going to be fine, Sweetheart.”

 

The lock clicked and the three of them pushed into the building and out of the cold. The exterior of the building may have belied its age, but the lobby was brand new from top to bottom. A young man and a middle-aged woman sat at separate desks, typing away as the three of them entered.

 

“Good afternoon! You must be here to see Dr. Moore,” the young man said. The name plate on his desk said _Mr. Xanthivai_ , but he introduced himself as Theo and told Gen that all the kids at the school just called him Mr. X. He asked them to sign in on a machine in the corner, then ducked down a side hallway, presumably to fetch Moore.

 

Shaw signed in first, attached the sticker that the machine spat out to her shirt, then looked around. The woman at the second desk offered to answer any questions they had in the meantime.

 

Sameen noticed she had a few pictures on her desk of two little girls in various stages of infancy, and a row of locked filing cabinets behind her work station. Her plaque had both a name and a title: _Mrs. Dyer – Registrar_. Shaw guessed that was a fancy word for secretary and tried to come up with something not rude to ask her. Thankfully, Theo chose that moment to return with someone who matched the description Root had given her of Moore and a short girl with dark hair in a sharp, angular bob. She looked to be about Gen’s age, which Moore confirmed when he introduced her as the eighth grade class’s student ambassador, Alejandra Le.

 

Gen followed her deeper into the school for a tour, while Root and Shaw joined Moore in his office. Shaw wished she could have gone with them, but Moore promised them a tour of their own once the interview was done.

 

“The good news is that we can skip a few of the more boring questions, since I already got to know you a bit last night,” Moore said, looking at Root. “I’d like to get to know you better, Mrs. Shaw.”  
  
“Just Shaw,” she told him. “What do you want to know?”

 

“Why don’t you tell me what you do for work? Your wife says she’s a cybersecurity consultant,” he glanced at Root again to verify that information. “How is it that you two met?”

 

“I work for a small firm that conducts private investigations,” she said. The trick to a good lie was to tell the truth, she had learned – whatever version of the truth was safe to tell. “My job is actually what brought us together. We met while I was following up on a lead, ended up working together for a while, and the rest is history.”

 

Moore grinned at the story, then seemed to consider his next move carefully. It seemed like he couldn’t decide whether or not to say what he was thinking, though Shaw wished he’d just spit it out already. _You’re not gonna hurt my feelings,_ she thought.

 

“I do hope this isn’t too personal a question, but I notice that Gen doesn’t share many physical features with either of you…”

 

Root cut him off, answering the question he hadn’t quite gotten out. “She’s not our biological daughter, if that’s what you were wondering. Sam and I adopted her from Russia when she was six.”

 

Moore looked slightly relieved to have been spared the awkwardness of actually asking the question. “That must have been a big change for all of you. I, of course, didn’t mean to insinuate that she was any less your child because you aren’t her biological parents. Families are created in many different ways, especially in this day and age.”  
  
Shaw couldn’t help but smirk a little at the truth in his statement. Their family was the epitome of unconventional after all. Moore seemed to have taken it as a good sign.

 

“No need to explain. You’re not the first person to be curious, and I’m sure you won’t be the last” Root assured him.

 

“So, what are you hoping that Gen will gain from attending Zenith?”

 

Root took the lead when it came to answering questions, though Shaw tried to chime in enough to not seem uninterested. Moore did make the school sound awfully nice, plus Gen seemed relatively interested in the place, so Shaw didn’t want to blow her shot at getting in. She even tried to seem interested as he rattled of stuff she’d already learned from Root and the machine.

 

It wasn’t a big school at all. Only 297 students spread between middle and high school. Moore was proud to inform them that their college acceptance rate was 100%, but it seemed less impressive to Shaw since she knew the school had only been around for eleven years. It suddenly hit her that she didn’t even know if Gen wanted to go to college.

 

Of course, she knew Gen still wanted to go into espionage, but it wasn’t like there was an Espionage University with a course in buying and selling government secrets. She thought about how her own path had led her to the team, to Finch, to Root. The idea of Gen going on the same journey gave her an uncomfortable twisting feeling in her stomach.

 

Still, if there was one thing she knew for sure, it was that Gen might be the only person in the world as stubborn as Shaw herself. If Gen wanted to be a spy, she was going to figure out a way to do it. Better to help her be a good one than to try and dissuade her, Shaw figured. She didn’t have to like it though.

 

* * *

 

 

“Dr. Moore says you’re interested in computer science. I thought you might like to see the computer lab first,” Alejandra said, leading Gen away from the office and towards a stairway.

 

Gen nodded. “That’d be great.” They strolled along in silence for a bit as Gen looked around the hallways, glancing into each classroom they passed. “So, Alejandra, how did you end up being the class ambassador?”

 

“You can just call me Alex,” the shorter girl said. “Only old people call me by my full name. And I got nominated for the position by one of my teachers. I didn’t really want to do it, but it’s not much work and my parents think it’s a big deal, so I figured I might as well go with it. Plus, the school gets mad diversity points for having a half Vietnamese, half Nicaraguan lesbian as class ambassador.”

 

Gen really didn’t mean to laugh, but Alex’s candor just struck a chord in her. “You remind me of my mom.”

 

“Because I’m a lesbian?”

 

They passed another classroom, but this one was empty and all the lights inside were shut off. “No,” Gen said, keeping in step with her guide. “But, I do admire your strong sense of self. You’re just ...candid.” She couldn’t help but think to herself that Finch would have been pleased with her word choice.

 

“Most people call it brutally honest, but candid sounds a lot less abrasive.”

 

Alex pointed out the gym as they meandered towards the computer lab, as well as the three studio style rooms in the same hallway. One of them had a small dance class taking place inside and Gen found herself looking for Marissa’s light brown hair, but with no luck.

 

They continued towards their destination, though Alex paused every once in a while to point out things she liked. She did genuinely seem to enjoy the place, Gen thought. It wasn’t hard to see why. It seemed like Zenith offered almost everything a teenager might want to study.

 

They strolled past a row of navy blue lockers, most of which had their exteriors adorned with magnets, sticky notes, and tiny whiteboards. “So how long have you been out?” Part of her was internally facepalming for asking such a personal question, but most of her felt like Alex probably wouldn’t care that she asked.

 

Alex shrugged. “Almost a year. My parents took it surprisingly well. Dad kept asking if I was sure, but I think they get it now. What about you?”

 

Gen felt a blush creeping across her cheeks. “Oh, I…don’t really know. Although, I did just spend four years at an all-girls boarding school, so I guess if I were gay I’d probably know by now. I haven’t really had a crush before, I guess. I was always busy with other stuff.” She finished with a shrug. She certainly hadn’t expected an introspective conversation about her sexuality during her tour today, but it wasn’t terribly unwelcome.

 

They rounded a corner and the hallway came to a dead end. There was a single door at the end of the hall. Even though it was closed, Gen could see patches of blue light filtering through the frosted glass panel.

 

“Here it is,” Alex announced. “And for the record, I only ask people that to see their reactions. Yours was…refreshing.”

 

Gen grinned despite herself. For some reason she felt as though she’d passed a pop quiz with flying colors.

 

The computer room was modern and colorful like the rest of the school, with computer stations and desks arranged throughout the room. A handful of students were scattered around the room when they entered, and a few paused what they were working on to glance up at Gen and Alex as they entered, but only one stood up.

 

She was young and pretty, wearing stylish flats and hunter green trousers that matched her hijab. Gen thought she couldn’t be older than thirty, but she must be the teacher. Most of her teachers at Quinell had been middle-aged at least, so she was surprised to see someone so young in charge of not only a classroom, but also all of the school’s science and technology courses.

 

“Come in, come in,” she insisted, motioning for the girls to come further into the lab. “You must be Genevieve.”

 

She nodded. “Just Gen, if you don’t mind. Genevieve is such a mouthful.”

 

“I think it’s lovely. Still, if that’s what you prefer, that’s what we’ll call you. I’m Miss Osman, head of science and technology. I hope Alex hasn’t told you all of our dirty secrets yet. We try to get people to enroll before we tell them about the radioactive spiders in the basement.”

 

“Nobody’s turned into a superhero yet, but I’ve got high hopes that you could be the first,” Alex joked.

 

Osman led them to the desk in the corner where she’d been working when they came in, motioning for the two of them to sit down across from her.

 

Gen had expected her to ask a thousand questions to try and gauge her skill level, but to her surprise Osman just asked what Gen wanted to know. It was tricky to navigate the conversation without mentioning the less than legal things she’d done with her skills, but she managed. Osman even seemed a little impressed with the number of coding languages she knew.

 

“My mom likes to teach me new ones when she doesn’t have an assignment,” Gen told her. “She’s a cybersecurity consultant.”

 

“That sounds like an interesting job. She’s the one who got you interested in computer systems?”

 

Gen nodded. She found that Miss Osman was easy to talk to, and passionate about sharing her love for science and technology. She even told Gen that she would be more than happy to help her lay the groundwork for an independent study over the course of the coming semester. By the time she followed Alex out of the lab, she was certain that she wanted to attend Zenith.

 

Alex led her away from the computer lab, pointing out a few more areas of interest as she went. They stopped for a moment so Alex could fill her water bottle and explain to Gen how class schedules were assigned. As they stood in the hallway, a flutter of movement caught Gen’s eye. Marissa was dashing towards them down the empty hallway with a thick binder and a textbook clutched to her chest. “Genevieve! I’m glad I caught you!”

 

Alex looked between them in confusion. “You know each other?”

 

“Dr. Moore introduced us at my show last night,” Marissa explained. She smiled, shifting her things around in her arms. Gen realized the book she was carrying was a psychology textbook, not standard issue for most eighth graders. “So, what do you think of Zenith? It’s great, isn’t it?”

 

Gen grinned. “I’d say I’m sold.”

 

Marissa’s smile somehow widened. “That’s great! You’re going to love it here.”

 

“Not that I don’t love seeing you Mari, but shouldn’t you be in class?”

 

Marissa rolled her eyes at Alex, as though the answer should have been obvious. “It’s the last day before break, Lex. All I’m missing is a movie. And don’t worry, I got Mr. Dryden’s permission.” She looped her arm through Gen’s as though they were old friends and stage whispered to her. “Don’t let the edgy haircut fool you, Alex is a stickler for the rules.”

 

“First of all, that is so not true,” Alex said, quickening her pace to catch up with them. “And second of all, you’re going the wrong way. I’m taking Gen to meet Mr. Linares.”

 

“He’s out sick today,” Marissa informed her. “We had a substitute in French class.”

 

“So where are we going?” Gen asked.

 

Marissa didn’t answer, just led her to the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor. Alex glanced around nervously for a second before darting in after them.

 

“Alors, tu parles français?” Gen asked as the elevator climbed upward.

 

“Oui bien sûr.”

 

Alex rolled her eyes. “Really, with the French? Not cute, you two.”

 

Gen giggled. “Now you really sound like my mom.”

 

The elevator opened to an awkwardly shaped room with two doors. Marissa marched towards the one on the left, punching in a code on the number pad above the lock.

 

“Mari, what are you doing?” Alex asked, rushing towards her.

 

The light on the panel flashed green and Marissa unlatched the door. “Relax, Miss Osman lets me come up here to study all the time.” She pushed the door open and Gen was hit with a wave of rich soil-scented air. As she followed the other girls forward she realized the smell was coming from what looked like hundreds of potted plants. The air was humid and warm, and Gen realized that the ceiling was made entirely of glass panels.

 

“Okay, major points for the rooftop greenhouse,” Gen admitted.

 

Coolest. School. Ever.

 

* * *

 

 

“What about this one?” Gen stood next to a lopsided fir, looking particularly childlike with her hat caught in one of the branches. Bear, who had been at her side, ventured closer to give it an exploratory sniff.

 

“It’s crooked,” Root laughed.

 

“Really, Mom? Judging something for not being straight? Of all people…,” Gen teased, setting the tree back against the frame it had been propped on.

 

“I’ve got it,” Shaw announced, popping her head out from behind another row of trees.

 

Root followed Gen towards Shaw’s selected tree, stopping at the end of the row to admire it. “Hmmm…full, symmetrical, not _too_ tall,” she mused.

 

“It’s perfect! That’s the one we should get,” Gen exclaimed. Bear wagged his tail, though Root guessed he probably didn’t understand why Gen was excited.

 

Even with the branches tucked into the provided netting, it took a surprising amount of effort to get the tree home. When it was finally secured in the little pot they’d placed in the corner, Sameen took a pair of scissors to the net and let the branches spring back into place.

 

“Ah shit, there are needles everywhere,” she mumbled, surveying the bits of evergreen foliage all over the wood floors. “Let me get the broom.”

 

“Don’t bother, I’ll get them all once I’m done putting the lights up,” Root told her. “Why don’t you and Gen get started on the cookies?”

 

The two of them headed towards the kitchen with Bear trotting behind them while Root got to work stringing up the lights they’d pulled out of storage. All of the ornaments in the box had been ruined, but they’d been able to find new ones at a discount, as well as a new tree topper. Shaw had insisted on all black to match the furniture, but Gen had convinced her to add some contrast with silver, and Root had managed to persuade both of them to include a splash of purple too.

 

“Add a little more,” she heard Shaw telling Gen from the kitchen. She glanced up from her work to see the two of them standing at the island with a mixing bowl between them.

 

“Shouldn’t we be using a recipe? This seems a little complicated,” Gen said.

 

“Please. Baking is just chemistry,” Shaw told her. “All you have to do is balance the reactions. In this case, adding more milk will balance the flour.”

 

Soon the loft was filled with a tantalizing mix of gingerbread and pine smells. “Now it smells like Christmas,” Root grinned, adding another ornament to the tree.

 

“It’s pretty,” Gen said, walking up behind her.

 

“All it needs is a big pile of presents underneath it,” Root agreed, placing one final ornament on one of the branches in front of her face.

 

“Well, shopping is on the agenda for tomorrow,” Shaw reminded them. “But for now, I say we frost some cookies and watch the world’s greatest Christmas movie.”  
  
Gen perked up at the mention of a movie night. “Elf?”

 

“Die Hard.”

 

Despite her many talents, it turned out Gen was not a particularly gifted cookie artist.

 

“What is _that_?” Shaw pointed at a ginger bread man with a cascade of frosting on either side of its head.

 

“It’s you,” Gen insisted. “See? That’s your hair, and that’s your gun, and those are your angry eyebrows,” she explained indicating the excessive head frosting, a misshapen clump of sprinkles near the hand, and two inverted strips of icing above a pair of sugary decorations in turn.

 

Root tried poorly to stifle a laugh while Shaw glared at her. “You’re real funny.”

 

“Is that one me?” Root pointed to a cookie with a cluster of sprinkles in the squiggly lines of icing hair.

 

“Yeah, I even put your hearing aid.”

Root nodded. “Well done. But it’s not a hearing aid, it’s a cochlear implant.”

 

“What’s the difference?”

 

“A hearing aid would augment my hearing, but my cochlear replaces it. Without it I’m completely deaf on that side. There’s a teeny little bone in the inner ear that controls how we perceive sound – the stapes. I had mine removed.”

 

Gen furrowed her brows. “Why?”

 

“It wasn’t by choice.” She measured her breaths, not letting the memory sneak up on her. _She can’t touch us,_ she reminded herself. _Nobody can get to us anymore_.

 

“Hey, maybe we could have one night of normal family fun without reminiscing on one of the times you got tortured,” Shaw suggested. “Who’s this supposed to be?” She pointed at a cookie with spiked icing hair and rings of frosting around its candy eyes.

 

“Finch, of course,” Gen explained, then pointed to another cookie with a halo of red sugar sprinkles. “And that one’s Grace.”

 

“And, uh, what the hell is this supposed to be?” Shaw indicated a cookie that had been turned sideways, with one arm broken off and a detached foot affixed to the side of the head.

 

“We didn’t have a dog-shaped cookie cutter. I had to improvise.”

 

* * *

 

 

Root sat on the edge of the bed that night, braiding her hair while Shaw brushed her teeth in the en suite. There were a pair of mirrors affixed to the wall above the dresser. One of them was just the right height for checking her hair and makeup in the mornings, the other allowed her to watch the bedroom door behind her on nights like this.

 

No matter where they went, Shaw always took the side of the bed closest to the door – she was chivalrous like that. Still, Root liked being able to glance in the mirror before she fell asleep sometimes, on the days when the memory of Samaritan wasn’t so distant, when she couldn’t pretend that nobody would ever try to replicate Greer’s work ever again.

 

Her thoughts were interrupted by Shaw padding back in from the bathroom. She sat down next to Root and just looked at her for a minute. “You okay? You looked like you were starting to spiral earlier.”

 

“Spirals” were Shaw’s word for the times when a memory or trigger launched Root into a devolving episode of paranoia. It had been a long time since she’d had a bad one, thanks in part to her wife.

 

“I’m okay,” Root assured her. “You caught me, as usual.

 

Shaw nodded, apparently satisfied with that response. “Promised I would, didn’t I?”

 

Root smiled, remembering the vow that Shaw had made to her just a few months earlier. _“…as long_ _as I’m alive you will have someone to watch your back, wherever you go. No matter how bad things get, I promise to be your safe place.”_

“You did,” she agreed. “Today was nice. Weirdly…normal. Like we’re turning into the proverbial Joneses.”

 

“Yup, just a gun-slinging lesbian hacker, a sociopathic covert operative, and their adopted Russian teenager.”

 

“And the dog,” Root reminded her. “Don’t forget Bear.”

 

“And the dog,” Shaw added. “Just your typical New York family. Nothing to see here.”

 

“Just when I was starting to get used to ‘wife,’ now I’ve got to get used to being a ‘family’ too,” Root mused.

 

Shaw grinned her crooked, thoughtful smile. “You like it, _Mrs. Shaw_?”

 

Root met her wife’s grin with one of her own. “I really do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Christmas with the team. As always, I'd love to know your thoughts, so please leave them below!


	12. The Gift of Wisdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gen asks a lot of questions, and the team celebrates Christmas in the loft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I'm sorry this is late.  
> 2\. Hopefully the length makes up for it.  
> 3\. This is really long, so some stuff will be pushed into the next chapter.  
> 4\. Please be patient with me. My mental health is pretty rough right now, so inspiration to write might be a little hard to come by.

Gen stood up, surveying the carnage at her feet.

 

“Not bad for your first time,” Shaw said.

 

Scraps of wrapping paper littered the rug, along with used-up tape dispensers and little bits of ribbon. Looming above the rubble stood a tower of gifts that reached the middle of Gen’s thigh. “I can’t believe we actually pulled it off.”

 

Root picked up the last box, labeling it with a black marker. “I think this was some of our best work, Sameen. We’re like a well-oiled machine.”

 

“We cut it close, but the divide and conquer technique paid off.” She assessed the stack of gifts as well, looking pleased. “Root and I have one we thought you might want to open tonight.”

 

“Have you ever hear of Jolabokaflod?” Root asked, standing up from her post.

 

Gen shook her head. It sounded foreign, but she couldn’t place the language.

 

“In Iceland,” Root explained, “book publishers flood the marked with new releases at the end of every year. It’s become a tradition there to exchange books on Christmas eve, but I thought it could be nice to do it early.” She ducked into her office, returning with a big paper bag that was brimming with fluffed up tissue paper. She held it out to Gen, who sat down on the sofa to peek inside.

 

On top was a fresh new book, which she pulled out to inspect. _Chameleon: The Art of Being Unseen_. It was a book on learning how to blend into any given environment, she realized. Useful for both the aspiring spy, and the teenage girl. Underneath was a bag of gummy bears, her favorite kind, and a new pair of flannel pajamas. “Thank you! I can’t wait to read it.”

 

“Great, because this is Root’s gentle way of telling you that we’re banishing you to your room for the rest of the night so we can wrap your gifts,” Shaw admitted.

 

“And no peeking,” Root added, guiding her towards the bedroom door.

 

Gen shut the door behind her and set the bag down on the bed. She didn’t mind getting kicked out of the living room. She had a few things she needed to take care of away from Root and Shaw’s prying eyes. But first, she wanted to get ready for bed.

 

When she had washed her face, put up her hair, and changed into her new pajamas, she pulled her laptop off the charger and opened it up. She checked her messenger and saw a message from Zoe.

 

**All set!**

The attached picture showed two neatly wrapped boxes sitting on Zoe and John’s coffee table. She shot back a response.

 

**Did you check them?**

It was a moment before Zoe’s response popped up.

 

**Both safe and sound.**

_Perfect_ , Gen thought. She’d thought long and hard about what to get Root and Shaw for Christmas, so she didn’t want a careless FedEx driver messing it up. She considered asking Zoe to label them for her, but had no idea what to put on them. Was it okay to put Root and Shaw, since only the team would be there? Should she write “Mom” on both of them?

 

She realized she should probably figure out some way to distinguish which one she was talking to when all three of them were together. She shook her head, deciding it was a problem for a different time. When she’d finished thanking Zoe for her help, Gen shut down the laptop, opening up her gummy bears and settling in with her book.

 

Every now and then she could hear the hum of someone talking on the other side of the door, but Root and Shaw kept their voices low, disappointing the part of Gen that was impatient for information of any kind – especially the fun kind. After a while, the voices started to raise. Gen told herself she wouldn’t, but soon the curiosity overtook her. She set her book down and carefully crept towards the door.

 

“Sameen, you’re jostling it!”

 

“I’m not _jostling_ it. It’s got a million layers of bubble wrap.”

 

“Just be careful. Here, let me wrap it.”

 

“Root, I’ve got it,” Shaw protested.

 

“I just want to help.”

 

“I don’t need any help, I can wra- mmm…”

 

The talking stopped, cut short by a loud thud. Wait, what was that sound? _Oh god, abort mission!_ Gen darted to her backpack. Where were her headphones? They had to be there somewhere…

 

“Gross, gross, gross, gross…”

 

The intense kissing noises coming from the other side of the door had ebbed into laughter – Root’s laughter just on the other side of the door. “That’s what you get for trying to snoop, Sweet Pea.”

 

“You’re the worst,” Gen called back.

 

“Enjoy the book, Sweetheart!”

 

Gen put her headphones on, just to be safe.

 

* * *

 

 

Gen blinked her eyes open, taking in the shadows and outlines of the room. The lamp on her battered bedside table was still shining, illuminating the book that lay abandoned on the comforter. She must have dozed off…

 

The clock in the corner of her laptop screen let her know it was almost one in the morning. Time to get to sleep, she decided. She shut the book and set it next to the lamp, then shut down her laptop and put it away as well. Maybe it was the nap, or maybe it was the gummy bears, but she was inexplicably thirsty.

 

Stretching, she pulled herself up, then padded over to the door of her room. There was no light filtering through the crack at the bottom anymore, but there was something on the floor. Gen stooped down, picking up the note.

 

_All wrapped up. Sweet dreams!_

Gen rolled her eyes at Root’s pun as she walked into the kitchen and pulled a glass from one of the glossy cabinets. From where she stood, she could see how the lights of the city shone like pixelated stars outside the gigantic windows of the living room. _What a bizarre dream_ , she thought to herself, wandering towards the panes of glass to stare out at the scene beyond.

 

It had to be a dream, right? Only the intricately wired subconscious of the fragile human brain could concoct a scenario like this. Soon she would wake up in her bed at Quinell, get ready for class, and let this bizarre fantasy fade away with the day. Still, she couldn’t deny how real it felt.

 

She could smell the sharp sweetness of the pine tree in the corner, feel the cool water as it passed over her lips, taste the lingering tang of her favorite candy on her tongue. It was all so real. It all felt real.

 

 _You know that it’s real_ , a voice in the back of her mind whispered. She did. Logically, it was impossible for it _not_ to be real. She recalled something she’d read in a psychology book once – the human brain is incapable of imagining new faces. When we dream, we simply use the faces we know, faces from our memories, and insert them into whatever narrative our brains are constructing.

 

Root, Zoe, Grace, Finch, Daizo…she couldn’t have made them up. It was impossible. So, the only logical explanation was that it was all real. She was living in a swanky loft, technically adopted by Shaw and her wife, both of whom served an all-seeing supercomputer, about to celebrate Christmas for the first time in years with something that actually resembled a family.

 

This was her life now.

 

“Hey kiddo.”

 

 _Jesus Christ!_ Gen nearly dropped the glass she was holding. Shaw stood at the bottom of the steps, fully dressed, despite the time. “What are you doing up?”

 

Shaw pulled her coat off the hook by the door, shrugging it on. “Finch called. Assholes don’t take holidays off, apparently. What about you?”

 

“Just needed a drink,” Gen said, holding her glass up. She migrated back to the kitchen and deposited the empty cup into the dishwasher. “Aren’t you tired? You couldn’t have slept very long.”

 

“I’ll be fine,” Shaw assured her, shoving her feet into a pair of boots. “You sure you’re okay?”

 

Gen nodded, trying to muster up a smile. Shaw didn’t need to know about her little episode. “Yeah. Just wish you could stay,” she admitted. It wasn’t fair that Shaw had to give her night up because someone else wanted to do something evil.

 

Shaw gave her a crooked grin. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back in time for dinner. You’re nuts if you think I’m missing out on all that food.”  
  
_How very Shaw_. Gen returned her grin. “Alright.” She glanced down at her bare toes. “Be safe.”

 

When she looked up again Shaw was studying her face as if she were a puzzle with only half the pieces. “I will be,” she said, then reached out a hand. Gen thought she was going to ruffle her hair like she always did, but Shaw’s hand just rested on the side of her skull. “You be good, okay?”

 

Gen nodded, and with that Shaw’s hand was gone and so was she. The door shut behind her with a click and Gen resolved to get some sleep, if only to prove to herself that she wasn’t already dreaming.

 

* * *

 

 

When she woke again soft light was filtering through the blind on the window over her bed. She could hear someone, presumably Root, moving around the kitchen. She took a deep breath and was washed over by the smell of brewing coffee. _Definitely Root_.

 

She tossed the covers off her body and made her way to the bathroom. A shower was definitely in order before the team came over tonight, but it could wait until her growling stomach had been satisfied. When she was done washing her hands and admiring the colossal disaster her hair had become over the past few hours, Gen walked out into the living area.

 

Root was curled up on the couch, still wearing her pajamas too. She had a book in one hand and a coffee cup in the other, which she sipped from as Gen walked into the room. “Good morning! Are you excited for tonight?”

 

Gen nodded, making her way to the fridge and pulling out a carton of eggs and the milk. “I hope Shaw doesn’t miss it.”

 

“She’s already home,” Root informed her. “She got back an hour ago and was out like a light. Poor thing didn’t get to sleep a wink before she got called in last night.”

 

Gen tried to ignore the math that told her that there was a lot of unaccounted for time between when Root and Shaw would have finished wrapping her gifts and when she had seen Shaw leave the loft. Instead she just asked Root if she wanted eggs and pulled a bowl from the cabinet.

 

Root set her book down on the coffee table and migrated over to the island to watch Gen work. “Hey Root,” Gen started, focusing very pointedly on breaking the eggs into the bowl.

 

Root swallowed another sip of coffee. “Yes?”

 

“Do you… I mean, how did you know…how _do_ you know if you’re…when you’re…” She took a deep breath and started again. “How did you know you were gay?”

 

An unnamed reaction played across Root’s face and made Gen wonder if she ever should have asked. She didn’t used to have a problem asking personal questions. Then again, the answers didn’t used to matter.

 

“I think a little part of me always knew,” she said, running a finger along the edge of her coffee cup. “You know those cheesy movies where the hot guy steps into frame and everything just slows down so you know the girl is in love with him? I never had that with guys, just girls. It’s stupid, but I swear time almost stopped when I first met Sameen.” She took another long sip. “Why, do you think you might be too? Is it that girl who gave you the school tour?”

 

Gen poured the eggs into the pan, studiously avoiding Root’s gaze. “No. I guess I was just wondering what it felt like.”

 

“Sex?”

 

“Ewww! No! I meant that I wondered what attraction felt like.”

  
  
Root looked at her quizzically. “You’ve never felt it?”

 

“I don’t think so,” Gen admitted. “Maybe I just never will. That’s a thing, right? Some people just don’t experience attraction?”

 

“Yes, that’s a ‘thing,’” Root said, making air quotes with her hand. “Sweet Pea, the truth is that you don’t need to label yourself if you don’t want to. Whether you’re asexual, or pan, or bi, or gay, or anything in between, you’re still _you_. Who you are – who you become – is far more important that who you’re attracted to. And I know that having a word for what you feel can be empowering, but it’s okay to not know, especially right now. You’ve got so much learning to do about the world, and yourself, and humanity, and love. There’s no rush.”

 

Gen busied herself by adding some salt and pepper to the eggs. “Thanks.”

 

Root finished off the last of her coffee and stood up, walking over to the sink and rinsing the mug before she set it in the dishwasher. Gen tried to smother the sensation in her gut. She couldn’t understand the source of the feeling, but she knew it was anxiety. At least _that_ had a name. There was no reason to feel like this, or so she told herself, ignoring the tightness in her throat.

 

“Is that all you wanted to know?”

 

Gen didn’t look at Root, worried her face would betray her. Instead she nodded, turning off the burner and scooping the finished eggs onto a pair of small plates.

 

“Gen, look at me,” Root said softly. Gen obeyed, and instantly knew that whatever she was feeling, it was written all over her face. Root tucked a stray curl behind her ear, then cradled Gen’s face between her hands. “There is nothing wrong with you. You know that, right?”

 

And just like that, the feeling dissipated. Gen mustered up a smile. “I know.”

 

Root returned her smile. “Good.”

 

Gen hadn’t really thought much of it, but it struck her in that moment how beautiful Root was. Despite knowing the danger beneath her porcelain façade, Gen was struck by how elegant and soft she seemed, even with her hair knotted up on top of her head and her glasses on. Gen wondered if she would ever be so lovely, though she doubted it.

 

“Are you excited for tonight?” Root tore her from her thoughts.

 

They sat together at the counter, enjoying their breakfast and chatting about the party. When they were done Root offered to take care of the dishes and Gen treated herself to a long shower. They spent the morning tidying up the apartment, dusting and dancing around to Root’s playlist. Root made sandwiches for lunch, promising Gen she would want to save most of her appetite for dinner, which she had to start cooking as soon as they were done eating.

 

* * *

 

 

Shaw came down the stairs around two, looking rested and squeaky clean from a shower. Root grinned as she walked into the kitchen, crowding her space and giving her a kiss to the temple. Root and Gen pulled together a little meal to tide her over until dinner while Shaw told them about the previous night’s number. Afterwards, Root excused herself for a quick shower and made the two of them promise not to burn the whole building down in her absence.

 

Gen used the opportunity to try and practice her Farsi with Shaw. She was getting the hang of the pronunciation, but her vocabulary was “limited,” as Shaw put it. Gen was pretty sure that “limited” was her nice way of saying it was shit.

 

“Hey Shaw,” she started, switching back to English.

 

“Yeah Kiddo?”

 

“Why did you marry Root?”

 

Shaw stopped what she was doing and turned to look at Gen.  “What?”

 

“When we met, you told me you didn’t feel anything but anger. Now you’re married, and you actually seem really happy about it…in your own kind of way. What happened in between?”

 

“Well, around the same time I met Root, some annoying wanna-be spy told me I needed to start feeling with the volume up,” Shaw smirked. “She turns up every feeling as loud as it will go.”

 

“ _All_ of them? Even the bad ones?”

 

“Sometimes,” Shaw chuckled. “Root’s got some habits that drive me insane and she knows it, but nobody has ever understood me like she does. She can’t relate, obviously, but she respects the fact that I’m wired differently than her. I guess she finds it intriguing or something.”

 

“I find it beautiful,” said a voice at the top of the stairs.

 

“Remember those annoying habits I mentioned?”

 

Gen tried to hide her grin. She thought it was sweet, if she was honest. Root didn’t just love Shaw, she marveled at her. And Shaw, for her part, cherished Root in her own quiet way. Someone who didn’t know them wouldn’t notice the little ways Shaw said ‘I love you’ to her wife, but Gen did. Sometimes it was a pot of coffee started before Shaw left to track down a number. Sometimes it was a glass of wine placed on her desk when Root had been down the rabbit hole for too long and needed to come up for air. And sometimes it was aa simple as Shaw putting up with Root’s constant barrage of kisses and hand-holding because she knew that it was what Root needed to feel happy.

 

“Sorry Sweetie. I can’t help it if I have perfect timing.”

 

“Perfect timing,” Shaw scoffed. “You mean swooping in at the last minute with a half-baked plan and praying that your all-seeing other half takes care of the rest?”

 

“She always has a plan, Sameen. Even if we can’t see it.”

 

They argued for a few minutes, though Gen could tell there was no real venom behind it. Maybe, she thought, it was one of the things Root did because Shaw needed it to feel happy.

 

Root was gliding around the apartment, putting the finishing touches on everything when the first knock came at the door. “That’ll be Harry,” she said, making her way to the door. “He’s always so punctual.”

 

As usual, she was right. Finch and Grace stood on the other side of the door, bundled up to protect from the chill outdoors. Grace carried two big bags full of wrapped boxes, while Finch held a bottle of what Gen assumed from Root’s reaction was a bottle of rather expensive wine.

 

“I’m afraid Mr. Reese may be fashionably late,” he informed them as he took off his coat. “He was only just heading home as I left the office to pick up Grace, and I’m certain Ms. Morgan will insist on his freshening up before they leave.”

 

“Rough number?” Shaw looked up from where she was mashing potatoes. Gen’s arms felt sore just from watching her. She made a mental note to go to the gym with Shaw more often.

 

Finch gave her a breakdown of the case while Grace and Root opened up the wine.

 

“So, Ezra says you’re officially enrolled at Zenith,” Grace said. Root handed her a glass and she took a sip, savoring the drink.

 

Gen nodded in confirmation. “I start as soon as winter break is over. I think I’m really going to like it there. Miss Osman even says she’ll help me prepare for an independent study, so that I can get straight to work in the fall.”

 

Root excused herself to answer the door, but Grace talked on. “What would your focus be?”

 

“I have a few ideas,” Gen told her. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Root’s friend Fusco coming in with his own stack of boxes. “I’m thinking of doing something involving multiple coding languages, but I still want to go over it with her to narrow down my ideas.”

 

As predicted, John and Zoe were fashionably late. They arrived fifteen minutes after Fusco with Bear and a mountain of gifts in tow.

 

“What did you bring? A completely disassembled computer?” Shaw let Zoe unload the boxes into her arms and carried them over to the base of the tree.

 

“Don’t be ridiculous. I have no idea how to disassemble a computer.”

 

Bear, who had finished his cursory investigation of the assembled humans, parked himself at Gen’s feet and waited for an ear scratch. Gen obliged, of course.

 

Shaw, who was now examining the boxes, looked back to where Zoe stood removing her outerwear. “Zoe, why do these all have Gen’s name on them?”

 

“Because they’re all for Gen,” Zoe said as though that where obvious. To be fair, it kind of was. She accepted a glass of wine from Root and leaned against the island with it in her hand. “You’re the one who asked me to be her godmother. I don’t know what you expected.”

 

“Godmother, Zoe. Not _fairy_ godmother,” Shaw said. “And it’s really more of a legal precaution than anything. You and John are the ones who got all mushy about it.”

 

“Alright, let’s shelf this discussion for another time, shall we? Everyone is here,” Root said, taking command of the room, “and I, for one, would like to eat before this food gets cold.”

 

Apparently everyone agreed. Gen found herself squished at the table with Finch, Grace, Root, and Zoe, while John, Shaw, and Fusco ate at the counter. Root had really outdone herself with the food and everyone seemed to be enjoying a rare night of quiet.

 

Zoe wanted to know all about her new school, and Gen told her as much as she remembered from the tour. Root chimed in every now and then with some statistics – of which Grace looked quite proud and Harold looked quite impressed.

 

When everyone had eaten more than their fill, they piled their plates into the sink and migrated to the living room, where Root had set out cookies and a selection of drinks on the coffee table. Gen helped herself to a gingerbread man and settled on the sofa next to Shaw. Root, who had appointed herself in charge of passing out gifts, plucked a box from the pile and set it on Grace’s lap.

 

“It’s a bit heavy,’ she commented, setting her drink aside. When she peeled back the wrapping paper, it turned out to be a windowsill garden kit.

 

“Finch said you missed your garden,” Fusco said. “I thought this would be a good substitute until the weather gets nice again.”

 

“Thank you, Lionel! This is so thoughtful.”

 

The next box was placed in Gen’s lap. “Lee helped me pick it,” Fusco informed her. Inside was a small snow globe with a single figure spinning a circle on ice. Gen noticed, with a grin, that the figure had golden curls and blue eyes not dissimilar to her own.

 

She gave it a gentle shake and watched the fake snow swirl around in the water. “I’ll have to thank him next time I see him.”

 

The next gift was a set of NYPD shot glasses for John, then a gift card for Shaw to her favorite deli. And on it went until Root came across an unmarked box. “This one isn’t labeled,” she said, turning the box over in her hands.

 

“It’s for you,” Gen told her, recognizing the box that she’d asked Zoe to hold on to.

 

“Sneaky,” Root teased, grinning nonetheless. When she tore away the wrapping and opened the box she caught a glint of silver. Gen had had the pendant engraved on each side. _I see, I know, I create, I am_. “Sweetheart, I love this. Thank you.”

 

Gen smiled, glad that she’d chosen correctly. “That one’s for Shaw,” she said, pointing out the other unmarked box. Root picked it up and offered it to her wife.

 

Gen had had to come up with something a little more creative for her other mother. With the exception of her wedding ring, Gen had never seen her wear jewelry when she wasn’t undercover. Obviously something else was required.

 

Shaw tore away the paper and discarded it carelessly on the floor, then pulled open the box. Shaw’s gift had been a bit trickier than Root’s, but she’d been able to pull it off thanks to Zoe. It was all worth it when the tape came tumbling out onto Shaw’s lap. “You made me a mixtape? That was very 1985 of you,” she laughed, though Gen could tell that it was out of confusion, not disappointment.

 

“You should listen to it sometime,” Gen said, knowing the contents would surprise her. “I think you’ll like it.”

 

“Thanks Kiddo.”

 

Root kept doling out gifts, John and Shaw kept sipping their way through the bottle of whiskey on the table, and everyone munched their way through a few cookies as the mountain of gifts got smaller and the mountain of discarded wrappings grew taller. Gen accrued enough clothing and accessories from Zoe to start a small boutique, John had gifted her with a small knife that had garnered Shaw’s admiration, Grace had bought her an official ZDS hoodie to wear for school spirit days, and Finch had been apparently relieved at her excitement over the small collection of gift cards that had spared him the awkwardness of actually shopping for a teenage girl.

 

“This one is from the whole team,” Root said, placing a final box on Gen’s lap. It was awkwardly balanced, she noticed. One end was heavier than the other, causing the box to slide as she unwrapped and opened it. When she looked at the contents, she realized why.

 

One side of the box held a pair of thick snow boots, while the other revealed a pale blue ski jacket and coordinating snow pants. “Are we going skiing?” She had mostly been joking, but Shaw nodded.

 

“My friend has a cabin in Vermont that she leases out when the weather gets too cold for her. It’s right by a ski lodge and some great hiking trails. You’ll leave in a few days and come home after New Year’s, just in time for school.”

 

“John and Lionel assure me that they’ll be able to manage without Sameen for a week, and I can always work remotely,” Root explained.

 

Gen had to admit, it sounded pretty fun. “I can’t wait!”

 

Fusco was the first to excuse himself, wishing everyone a merry Christmas as he headed home to prepare for Lee’s arrival from his mom’s place the next day. It wasn’t long before everyone else began packing up and heading home as well. John and Zoe were the last to go, both a little tipsy, though John managed it better.

 

“Come on Bear, let’s go home,” he said, pulling the dog’s leash off of one of the hooks by the door.

 

Bear didn’t move from where he was sitting at Gen’s feet.

 

“Bear, come on. You wanna go for a ride?”

 

Bear lowered himself onto the hardwoods, laying resolutely at Gen’s feet.

 

“I think that’s a no,” Zoe giggled.

 

“Traitor,” John muttered.

 

Shaw reminded him that Bear would be back at his place when they left for Vermont, which seemed to satisfy him. Soon the door was shutting behind them, leaving the apartment drenched in silence for a long stretch of time as the three of them surveyed the remnants of the party all over the living area.

 

“We’ll worry about it tomorrow,” Root decided. “I’m exhausted. And you,” she turned to Shaw, “should try to catch up on sleep while you can.”

 

Gen was glad to settle into bed that night with Bear curled up by her feet. The day had felt so incredibly long, even though it had been fun. With the sun long gone behind the horizon and a serious sugar crash setting in, she shut her lamp of and gave Bear one last scratch behind the ears.

 

* * *

 

 

Christmas morning came the way so many other mornings did for Shaw. The lights of the city outside trickled through the sides of the curtains, giving her just enough light to watch Root’s soft breathing as she lay sleeping at Shaw’s side. She had to admit she was tempted to stay put and watch Root wake up slowly, drink her in for a while.

 

Duty eventually won out though, pulling Shaw away. She dressed quietly and ducked into the bathroom to rinse the sleep from her face and brush her teeth. With her hair pulled back into a ponytail, she snuck past Root once again and made her way downstairs.

 

Gen seemed to still be asleep, which was unsurprising given the hour, so she got to work picking up some of the previous night’s mess. When the kitchen was clean enough, she Baking had always calmed her, brought comfort to her. Even as a little girl she had found peace in the practice of standing on a kitchen chair helping her mother make koloocheh step by step. She always knew what to do next, how to make things come together correctly.

 

Today was no different, and she took comfort in the mixing, sprinkling, cutting, and rolling until she heard the shuffling of feet and the clatter of paws on the ground.

 

“Good morning,” Gen mumbled, rubbing at her eyes as she shuffled into the room.

 

“Merry Christmas.”

 

Gen grinned, apparently only just remembering the occasion. “Merry Christmas, Shaw. Where’s Root?”

 

“Still sleeping. I bet I know what’ll wake her up though.” She started a pot of coffee and let it work its magic.

 

“What are you making?” Gen pointed at the bowl in front of her.

 

“Icing. There are cinnamon rolls in the oven.”

 

Gen’s face lit up, and even though she was as tall as Shaw now, she could still see the inquisitive kid she had first met trapped in Gen’s features. “Cinnamon rolls are my favorite!”

 

“Another thing we have in common,” Root said descending the open staircase in her pajamas and a pair of fuzzy socks. Shaw grinned, embracing the swooping feeling in her stomach as Root drowned her in affection for a moment. “It smells amazing in here. What did I do to deserve you, huh?”

 

“Consider it an apology for that time I shot you.” Shaw watched Root prepare two cups of coffee, knowing exactly how Shaw liked hers.

 

“You _shot her_?” Gen couldn’t hide her shock, and Shaw reminded herself to help Gen work on her poker face.

 

“I sort of deserved it,” Root admitted.

 

“Sort of? More like totally,” Shaw teased. “You kidnapped Finch, tased, drugged, and threatened to torture me, and almost shot Finch because you were sad about your robot girlfriend.”  
  
Gen’s eyes grew more and more bewildered. “You were gonna _torture_ her?”

 

Root pressed on in her own defense. “How many times do I have to tell you? The Machine isn’t a robot, and she’s not my _girlfriend_ either.”

 

“Hold on. You,” Gen pointed at Root, “kidnapped Finch and held Shaw hostage?”

 

“I wouldn’t say she was a _hostage_ …”

 

“And you,” Gen turned to Shaw, “shot her?”

 

“She deserved it,” Shaw reiterated.

 

Root even showed Gen her scar, assuring her that she was fine. “She even patched me up before Harry sent me to the psych ward,” Root said, clearly finding the whole thing quite sweet in retrospect. Shaw did have to admit she was pretty fond of that scar. Root had even picked a wedding dress that showed it off so Shaw could admire it as she walked down the aisle.

 

Gen clearly did not find the whole thing quite so romantic. “I’m so confused. How did you guys ever end up together?”

 

“Well, when she wasn’t trying to kill me, I found Shaw quite attractive,” Root admitted.

 

“You found me attractive even when I was trying to kill you.”

 

“I guess the short answer is that we both grew a lot while we were working together.”

 

Gen looked like she had a storm of questions brewing in her head, but the oven timer cut them off. As the three of them sat at the table, enjoying warm, sticky cinnamon rolls, Shaw remembered the one gift that she and Root had saved for Christmas morning. While Root and Gen cleaned up, she ducked into Root’s office and pulled it from its hiding spot.

 

“If you’re not too Christmas-ed out, Root and I have one more thing for you.” They hadn’t bothered wrapping this one, just stuck a bow on the box and called it a day.

 

“My own phone?”

 

Shaw handed it over so Gen could admire it. “We already put the important numbers in there, and I got Lee’s contact info from Fusco for you. It also comes with a smart watch.”

 

Gen opened the box and took each one out in turn, tightening the watch onto her wrist and getting used to the weight of it.

 

“You can use it for phone calls, reading texts, playing music, and it works as an activity tracker. Fully submersible and waterproof, shatter resistant, and easy to recharge.”

 

Shaw noticed that she left out the part where it would allow the Machine to monitor her movement throughout the city and monitor her heart rate for signs of distress.

 

“That’s so cool! Thank you. This has been the best Christmas ever.”

 

Shaw tousled Gen’s already messy curls. “We’re glad you’re here, Kiddo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that's Christmas with the team! I'm going to try my very best to stick to my posting schedule, but I'm honestly having a pretty rough time right now. So, if things don't go up at the usual time, please be patient, and as always, I'd love to know what you thought of this update. Thanks, and happy new year!


	13. Skiing, Snowboarding, and Football

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Root, Shaw, and Gen enjoy a little vacation away from the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I know it's been AGES since the last update, and I can't promise the next one will be on schedule, but I do promise I will try. Thanks to everyone for being so understanding and patient with me! I hope you enjoy this one.

Shaw knew Root wasn’t particularly proud of her past, at least not the parts that came after Hanna and before the team. Still, as Sameen guided the SUV along the endless highway in front of them, Root replied to each of Gen’s questions honestly. She seemed to have no trouble bearing her soul to their daughter.

 

_Their daughter_. Sometimes it threw Shaw off when she remembered it. Other times it was as natural as the sun rising in the east. Lately it had been more of the latter, and she was relieved that realization no longer crashed into her like a wave.

 

“You snapped her neck? Just…” Gen mimicked an abrupt twisting motion on herself.

 

“At the time, I thought she had killed Sameen…or at least planned to take her location to the grave and leave her there to rot while agents tried to torture her for information on the rest of us. And she did.” Root’s features were heavily schooled, though Shaw knew Gen could really only make out part of her face from the back seat. “That’s one I _don’t_ regret.”

 

“Even though she’s alive?” Gen gestured to Shaw, who kept her eyes on the road.

 

Root gave a sad smile. “I know I don’t have much right to pass judgements, but Martine didn’t deserve another chance to hurt someone…especially not someone I love.”

 

There was a long pause, and it seemed like Gen was considering her response carefully. “Is that why you do this? To…atone for all the stuff you did?”

 

“Sometimes,” Root admitted. “I used to think that people weren’t worth saving – just an accident, fumbling around in the dark for some sort of meaning. I thought I could cure humanity one bullet at a time, but I didn’t realize that I had become part of the disease in the process. The Machine didn’t cure me, but she brought me to the only people who could.”  
  
Shaw felt Root’s eyes lingering on her face, though she didn’t feel the discomfort she used to at the gesture.

 

“Alright, lighten up, would you?”

 

Root winked at her, picking up her phone and hooking it up to the car’s stereo system. “Whatever you say, Sam.”

 

The cabin looked pretty typical from the outside, an accumulation of stone and cedar shingles with a small front porch, but Shaw hadn’t expected the inside. It was, in short, extravagant for a cabin. To the left of the door was a small bathroom, straight ahead stood the bedroom door, and to the right was the kitchen, which was little more than an L-shaped path to the cavernous living room. The ceiling vaulted upward, framing massive windows and a folding door that looked out into the woods that surrounded the property.

 

“This place is so cool,” Gen said, trailing behind her.

 

Grace had made the reservation months ago as a wedding gift to her and Root, not knowing there would be a third member tagging along on the trip. However, her friend had assured them that there was a bunk room for Gen next to the kitchen, so Shaw went in search of it. As promised, she found a door on the other side of the kitchen wall and slid it open. She didn’t even have time to react to the tiny space before Gen poked her head in.

 

The room was just big enough for a set of built-in bunk beds and a bit of standing room – purely utilitarian. She was about to remind Gen that it would only be for a while, and that she could always sleep on the couch if she wanted, when she burst past Shaw and tossed her things on the lower bunk. “I call top bunk!”

 

She’d gotten gift after gift just a few days ago, and few of them had made her eyes light up as much as a fucking bunk bed. _Simple pleasures_ , Shaw thought to herself. Maybe the world could learn a thing or two from her kid.

 

“You get both,” Root reminded her with a laugh.

 

“I know,” Gen said, already halfway up the ladder. “That’s just what they always say in the movies. I guess it seems kind of dumb when you don’t have anyone to fight for it, though.”

 

“It’s not dumb,” Root assured her. “I’m going to go unpack.” She turned around, making her way back to the main bedroom.

 

Shaw trailed behind her after a few moments. On the way she spotted a folder on the counter. Inside were menus from nearby takeout places, a map, info on the ski lodge, an invite to the lodge’s new year party, and a letter from the owner with her contact information and some helpful information about the house.

 

After checking on Root, Shaw started unpacking the groceries they’d picked up on the way, already a little hungry for dinner.

 

“What are you making?” Gen rounded the corner, rainbow socks slipping along the floor.

 

“Haven’t decided yet. What do you want?”

 

Gen mulled it over. “Something easy.”

 

“Spaghetti?”

 

“Perfect.”

 

 Gen tried to help, but Shaw quickly banished her to the living room to keep her toes from being stepped on. “Find a movie to watch, would you?”

 

As Gen scrolled through the titles on screen and Shaw stirred the pasta, Root strolled around the corner and came to invade her wife’s space. “Everything is put away,” she said, wrapping her arms around Shaw’s waist and resting her chin on her shoulder. “Thanks for making dinner.”

 

“Figured I’d let you take the night off from cooking.”

 

Root kissed her neck, then her cheek. “My tummy and I appreciate you.”

 

Shaw rolled her eyes, but grinned despite herself. “Almost ready. Can you find plates or bowls?”

 

Root gave her one more peck on the cheek before detaching herself to search the cupboards for dishes. “Dinner’s almost ready, Sweet Pea. Go get washed up,” she said, raising the volume of her voice so Gen could hear.

 

“Coming!”

 

Soon the three of them sat side by side, practically inhaling pasta and sauce. “How can I possibly be this tired? I feel like I hardly did anything all day,” Gen said.

 

“It’s the travel,” Root said, and Shaw nodded in agreement. “You’ll get used to it the more you do it.”

 

“Like you?”

 

“It’s been a while since the Machine has sent you on a trip out of the city,” Shaw realized. “Other than Iceland, you haven’t travelled since the wedding.”

 

Root sighed, leaning her cheek delicately against her hand. “She’s been pushing things to the back burner for me,” Root admitted, “but I’ll probably need to visit Seattle when Gen goes back to school.”

 

“Are you sure?” Gen was obviously trying not to sound apprehensive about the idea, and Shaw realized with annoyance that her chest started to constrict at the idea that Gen didn’t think Shaw could look after her alone.

 

Root nodded. “It would only be for a few days, a week at most. Besides, you’re going to be so busy with school and your friends that you won’t even notice that I’m gone.”

 

“It’ll be weird without you there though.”  


Root grinned, tapping Gen on the tip of her nose.

 

“You two are going to be just fine without me. Besides,” she pointed to her cochlear, “I’m never that far away.”

 

Root took care of the dishes while Shaw queued up the movie Gen had picked on the TV. When all three of them were cozied up in their pajamas, they settled in on the sofa to watch the mystery thriller. Gen made it about forty-five minutes before dozing off with her cheek against the arm of the couch. Shaw let her be for the rest of the movie, not even waking her when the credits started rolling.

 

“Here,” Root said, draping a blanket over her sleeping form. “I left the light in her room on so she won’t be too disoriented if she wakes up.”

 

“Good idea.” Shaw shut the rest of the lights off and double checked the locks on all the doors before following Root to bed. How was it that Root always thought of stuff like that? Shaw would have just turned off all the lights and left Gen to sleep in peace. The thought that she might be scared or disoriented by waking up alone in an unfamiliar place had never occurred to Shaw.

 

_No wonder she’s worried about Root leaving,_ she thought to herself as she crawled into bed. Root had given her the side closest to the door, which somehow seemed to worsen Shaw’s annoyance. She reminded herself that Root was just being nice, but it didn’t ease the feeling in her gut.

 

“Did I do something to bother you? You seem upset,” Root noted, leaning against her hand to look at Shaw in the lamplight.

 

Sameen almost laughed. Sometimes it was like Root could hear her thoughts, honestly.

 

“No, you didn’t do anything. I was just thinking.”  


“About what?”

 

Shaw turned onto her back so she wouldn’t have to look Root in the eye as she spoke, staring up at the ceiling instead. “How do you always know what Gen needs?”

 

“I don’t,” Root admitted. “But, I remember being her age and not having a single person I felt like I could turn to. I just try to give her what I would have wanted, if I’d had the choice. If someone had believed in me, trusted me, taught me right from wrong…I can’t imagine how different my life would have been.”

 

“Just think, you could have a nice cushy office job where you never have to shoot people, or steal jets, or kidnap anyone.” Shaw was teasing, or course, but she couldn’t help glancing down the rabbit hole of ‘if’ from time to time. She turned her head to see Root grinning at that idea.

 

“I’d be miserable,” she pointed out. “I think that I’d know, deep down, that something was missing.”

 

“The Machine?”

 

“My purpose,” Root corrected her. “And my family. You.”

 

“Don’t tell me you believe in soulmates now.”

 

Root laughed, turning to shut off the lamp before curling against Shaw’s side. Sameen let her, getting comfortable herself. “Of course not. But despite all the pain it’s caused me, I wouldn’t trade this life for any other.”

 

Shaw closed her eyes and thought about that, tried to picture herself doing anything but this. What? Working for the ISA again? Finishing med school? Committing crimes for cash? None of it fit.

 

“Yeah, me neither.”

 

There was a long silence, in which Shaw nearly drifted off. “And Sameen?”

 

“Hmmm?”

 

“All Gen wants is to be like you. Teach her something when you have the chance.”

 

Shaw opened her eyes, turning her head to look at her wife in the dark of the room. “How about I teach her how to kick your ass on the slopes tomorrow?”

 

“I’ll take that as a challenge, Sweetie.” Root kissed her cheek and before long Shaw was drifting off in earnest.

 

* * *

 

 

“Now bend your knees a little more,” Shaw said, showing Gen the proper way to position herself on the board. Gen followed her lead, trying to balance on the center of the board with her knees bent and her shoulders forward. “I think you’re ready.”

 

Gen scanned the side of the mountain for Root’s bright blue coat, but didn’t spot her. She’d been skiing alone while Shaw taught Gen how to snowboard and Gen found herself impressed at Root’s skill. She spotted Root again as she and Shaw rode the lift to the top of one of the small hills, tracing a smooth line in the snow.

 

“Don’t hesitate once we get up there,” Shaw reminded her as they approached the top of the hill.

 

Gen nodded, ready to test herself. She counted down in her head, 3,2,1…and slid off the seat of the lift, shaking a little as she landed, but righting herself.

 

As they approached the edge of the run, Shaw turned to look at her again. “You want to go first?”

 

“You go,” Gen said. “I’ll follow your lead.”

 

She thought for a moment that Shaw would call her out on her nerves, but she just nodded and turned forwards, propelling herself forward.

 

Following Shaw down the slope felt almost like flying, and when Gen came sputtering to a stop next to her, all she wanted was to do it again.

 

“Alright, come on kiddo.” Shaw led her to the lift again and they rode back up together. When she had mastered the little hill, she begged Shaw to take her higher. All the while, Gen kept an eye out for Root, watching her glide down the slopes with apparent ease.

 

“I didn’t know she was so good,” Gen said as the crept towards the top of the mountain once again.

 

“Root’s just one of those people,” Shaw told her, and Gen thought back to what Maddy had said about her at the ice rink. “She’s… versatile. Sort of a jack of all trades.”

 

When they reached the bottom of the mountain again, Gen looked up and tried to guess the time by the sun, but her grumbling stomach chimed in with a more accurate assessment: lunch time.

 

“Let’s head in,” Shaw said, motioning towards the lodge. Inside there was a cafeteria with long tables and a fireplace in the corner. Gen scanned the area for a place to sit while Shaw used the bathroom, hoping to claim a spot for all three of them.

 

“There’s my girl! You looked so good out there,” Root said, appearing from behind her. “Let’s go find a table, I’m starving.”

 

Gen followed her to a group of seats towards the center of the room, shucking off her gloves and using them to claim her spot. “How did you know I’d be in here?” As soon as she asked the question, she realized the answer was obvious. The lodge had security cameras all over the place.

 

To her surprise, Root pulled out her cell phone and waved it for emphasis. “Your mom texted me.”

 

“Oh, right.” Gen grinned at her own forgetfulness. “Should we go order? I’m sure you know what she wants.”  
  
Root followed her to the line at the counter, skimming the menu board as they waited their turn. She didn’t even notice Shaw coming into the cafeteria behind them, but Gen did.

 

“Mom!” Root and Shaw both turned to look at her and Gen reminded herself to think of something else to call one of them as Shaw walked towards them.

 

“There you are, Sweetie,” Root said. She grabbed one of Shaw’s hands, dragging her into the line with them. “I would ask if you’re hungry, but I already know the answer.”

 

“Mom’s always hungry,” Gen agreed.

 

When they had picked up their food, the three of them made their way to the seats they’d saved and settled in.

 

“I saw you two a few times while I was riding the lift,” Root said while Shaw plowed through her fries. “You both did so well!”

 

Gen swallowed a big gulp of water. “It always helps to have a good teacher.”

 

“I can tell, you’re practically a pro. You two were totally tearing up the slopes.”

 

Shaw choked on her soda while gen started laughing outright. “Nobody says that.”

 

Root looked to Sameen for confirmation. “Sorry, cupcake. I guess you’re not as hip with the kids as you thought.”

 

“I am too hip! I am super hype. I’ve got swag, Sameen.”

 

Gen buried her face in her hands. “Oh my gosh, stop! Nobody says any of that.”

 

“Do they still say legit?”

 

Gen shook her head.

 

“Sick?”

 

“No, Mom. Just…no.”

 

“Well then, what _is_ cool?”

 

Gen sent a beseeching look to Shaw, who continued hiding her smirk behind her hand. “Don’t look at me, I haven’t been cool since undergrad.”

 

Gen tried to think of a tactful way to explain to Root that “cool” things immediately stopped being such when used by people over the age of thirty. Thankfully she was spared the awkwardness by Shaw, who had apparently spotted something behind Gen and Root.

 

Thankfully she was spared the awkwardness when Shaw caught sight of something behind them. “Woman at your five o’clock keeps looking over here,” she muttered, just low enough for them to hear.

 

Root paused, no doubt taking in a bout of chatter in her ear. “She’s harmless,” she informed them after a moment.

 

“I hope you’re right, she’s coming over here.”

 

When gen turned around to get a look, she spotted a twenty-something with a platinum blonde braid coming towards them.

 

“Hey,” she grinned in a way that was probably meant to be reassuring, but just belied her own discomfort. “I didn’t mean to bother you, I just wanted to say you have a beautiful family.”

 

Root smiled back at her, selling the part of the proud mom. “That is so sweet of you to say.”

 

“My sister and her wife just adopted a little boy from foster care, and now it seems like every time I turn around I see adoptive families.” She chuckled a little self-consciously. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the universe was trying to tell me something.”

 

“Well, I can only speak to our experience, but it was the best decision we ever made as a couple,” Root told her, giving Shaw a long glance. “You’ll know if you’re ready.”

 

The young woman grinned at that, nodding absentmindedly. “Thanks. Well, I won’t keep you, that’s all I wanted to say. Have a nice day!”

 

Root wished her the same and she departed, walking out the cafeteria doors.

 

Gen wondered if Root had really meant it, that she was the best decision they ever made. She hoped it was the truth.

 

* * *

 

 

By the time New Year’s Eve rolled around, Root’s muscles were well and truly tired. They’d established a steady schedule of rising early each morning to drive to the lodge, skiing and snowboarding all morning long, eating lunch in the cafeteria, sledding, skating, or swimming in the afternoon, then heading home to cook dinner and snuggle up on the couch for a movie.

 

Tonight, however, was going to be different. There was a party at the lodge, and the three of them were meant to be there at nine.

 

“Out with it,” Shaw muttered, zipping Root’s dress for her.

 

“What?”

 

Sameen came to stand in front of her, quirking an eyebrow. “You know what. You’ve got your thinking face on. Something’s got your brain going, what is it?”

 

Root sighed, tossing her hair back over her shoulder. “I was thinking about what Gen said the night we got here. Remember, when she saw the bunk bed?”

 

“Yeah, she was weirdly excited about it,” Shaw said, wiggling out of her jeans and shucking off her top.

 

“I’m talking about what she said about not having anyone to fight for it.”

 

Shaw stepped into her own dress, sliding it over her hips and torso. “What about it? It’s not like one of us was going to stay in there with her,” she said, turning so Root could do her zipper.

 

“I know you and I were both only children, and there’s nothing wrong with that, but do you think she would be happier if she weren’t? Some studies have shown that kids with siblings have higher—”

 

“No,” Shaw cut her off firmly. “If you’re suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, the answer is no. No times a thousand.”

 

“You didn’t even let me finish,” Root argued.

 

“If it was something along the lines of ‘oh, Sameen, we should adopt another kid so that the one we already have doesn’t feel lonely while we’re off getting shot at on a daily basis,’ then I was justified.”

 

“It could be good for her, Sameen.”

 

“She’s not a cat, Root! We can’t just get another one to keep her company while we’re away. For God’s sake, we’re just barely getting the hang of having one kid. Have you lost your mind?”

 

She didn’t want to admit it, but Shaw was right. They’d had Gen for just barely a month, and there was really no metric by which they could assure themselves that they were doing a good job with her. If Root was honest, she felt like she had something to make up for, only this time it wasn’t killing someone.

 

“It was a half-baked idea,” she admitted. “I just feel like…” God, how could she make Shaw understand what she was feeling? Football! Football might just work.

 

Root took a deep breath and began again. “I feel like a coach showing up to a football game at the end of the third quarter.” Shaw paused at that, but didn’t start teasing her outright, so Root took it as a good sign and pressed on. “We weren’t there for most of the important parts, and now we’ve only got a few minutes left to come up with a winning game plan.”

 

“Who was in charge of the team while we were gone?”

 

“Nobody, they just kind of figured it out themselves.”

 

“And how did that go?”

 

“Not as bad as it could have.”

 

“Are we losing?”

 

“Not by much.”

 

“But you want to win?”

 

“I always want to win, Sameen.”

 

Shaw thought about it for a long moment. “You can’t win at parenting,” she finally announced, sitting down on the bed to put on shoes. “But for the sake of your analogy, let’s say you can. Why do you want to win so bad?”

 

“Because if we had been there at the start of the game, we wouldn’t be losing in the first place. We have a great team, they just haven’t had a lot of direction,” Root said, all in one breath.

 

“You feel guilty,” Shaw said, as if it were a diagnosis.

 

Root nodded slowly, realizing she was right. “Yeah, I feel really guilty.”

 

“There’s no reason to. We didn’t even know there was a game going on, and there wasn’t anything we could have changed if we had. So, play maker, do you want to worry about the last three quarters, or do you want to win?”

 

Root grinned at Shaw’s use of her metaphor. “I want to win.”

 

“Great.” And with that, Shaw stood up and marched towards the door. “But we’re not adding any new members to this team. Our roster is full, got it?”

 

“We could get a cat,” Root suggested.

 

“Root.”

 

“Fine, no new recruits.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks for your patience. Tune in next time for the party, and the gang's return home. 
> 
> As always, your comments, thoughts, and reactions are the lifeblood of this work, so leave them down below!


	14. Icing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gen makes a friend at the party, and receives a gift from Grace and Zoe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me, uploading this on time! Small warning for some homophobic language/sentiment towards the beginning of the chapter. I'll be including a link to this story's tag on my tumblr at the end of the chapter. There you can find updates and additional content, like the floor plan of the cabin that the family is staying in, and renderings of the loft.

“You’ve got your phone?”

 

Gen nodded. “And my watch.”

 

“Good. We’ll be right upstairs if you need anything,” Shaw told her.

 

Root reached into her clutch. “Here’s some cash for snacks and things. If you need anything, we’ll be right upstairs.”

 

Gen tucked the cash into the purse Zoe had given her. “I’ll be fine. You guys go have fun!”

 

“You too.” Root took Shaw’s hand in her own. “Come on Sweetie, I heard there’s going to be fondue.”

 

When they had turned the corner, Gen turned around to survey the party. A few dozen teens milled about in semi-formal attire, offset by copious amounts of poorly applied glitter and glow stick jewelry. A DJ had taken up residence in the corner, blasting dance tunes that kept the mass of bodies on the dancefloor pulsing in rhythm, like a frenzied heartbeat. She pulled out her phone and shot a text to Lee.

 

_Just got to the party. Why do I feel like I just got dropped off at daycare?_

_LF_

_Are there chaperones?_

Gen scanned the room, noting a few adults in polo shirts scattered around the room.

 

_Yup_

_LF_

_You are at day care._

_Great. What are you up to tonight?_

_LF_

_Party at the rink. Malcolm and Maddy’s idea._

The attached photo showed Wyatt and the twins waving at the camera, all three of them on skates and illuminated by multicolored lights.

 

_Looks fun! Say hi for me._

_LF_

_Say hi for yourself._

_Shared Contact: Madison Angela_

_Shared Contact: Malcolm Xavier_

_Shared Contact: Wyatt Halstead_

Gen walked along the fringes of the party, setting up a group chat with the four of them. She snapped a selfie in front of the dancefloor and sent it out.

 

_Happy New Year!_

_MA_

_Gen! Where are you? Come save me from all these smelly boys!_

_MX_

_If you didn’t want to be surrounded by smelly boys, you should have stuck with dance classes, Maddy._

_WH_

_I thought I smelled okay…_

_MA_

_You’re fine Wy._

Gen laughed at the nearly immediate derailment of the conversation, glancing back up to watch the dancers as the song changed. She was about to send another text when an arm crossed her path.

 

“What’s so funny?” The boy in front of her looked to be about sixteen, with brown hair that brushed his forehead and matching brown eyes that seemed to be looking anywhere but her face. Suddenly the sequin-trimmed dress she’d picked out for the occasion felt much shorter than it really was.

_How would Shaw handle this?_ “Something tells me you don’t share my sense of humor,” she said, straightening up so she stood at her full height.

 

He scoffed, and Gen realized he was shorter than her. Not by much, but enough that he seemed insecure about it. She wondered how he would have looked at her if she’d opted for heels like Root and Shaw, instead of her ballet flats.

 

“And why’s that? I thought we could really have a connection,” he tried, still blocking her path.

 

“If you don’t let me past, the only thing that’s going to be connecting tonight is my knee with your dick.”

 

The boy raised his eyebrows in surprise, grinning like he’d just found the key to his next algebra test sitting on his desk. “Oooh! She’s feisty. All the more fun, I say.”

 

“Ice skating is fun. What I’m going to do to you if you don’t move? Not so much.” She clenched her jaw, staring him straight in the eye as she said it.

 

“Fine.” He pulled back his arm, stepping out of her way. Just as she was stepping past, intent on seeing what was being offered at the snack bar, he spoke again. “Probably a little dyke, just like your fucked up parents anyway.”

 

Gen wasn’t sure what happened after that, but the next thing she knew, she was face to face with the boy, pinning him to the wall. “What did you say about my moms?”

 

“You heard me.” Her fist clenched harder, wrinkling the fabric of her dress shirt between her fingers. “What do you care? They’re not even your real parents, right?”

 

“Austin!” Gen turned her head to see a blonde girl in a glittery black dress standing behind her. “Dare I even ask what you did this time?”

 

Gen released her hold on the boy, stepping back to see what would happen between the two of them.

 

“Fuck off, Elsie,” he spat, smoothing his shirt out with little success before storming off.

 

The girl, Elsie apparently, just rolled her eyes. “Sorry about him. My stepbrother can really be king of the douchebags.”

 

“Well, I guess you’ve got it worse than me then. At least I don’t have to live with him.”

 

Elsie sighed. “It’s only half the time.”

 

“You know, my mom’s in security. I could probably teach you a couple ways to keep him in line.”

 

The other girl grinned as the DJ switched the song blasting through the speakers. “Maybe. But first, we’re dancing!”

 

Gen let Elsie drag her onto the dance floor, following her lead and moving her hips in time with the beat, thinking back to the dance elective she’d taken at Quinell. The instructor had been a ballroom expert, dead set on dipping their toes into the water of all sorts of dances fifty minutes at a time. She’d been forced to dance the boy’s part more often than not, thanks to her height, but had found she liked the intuitive push and pull of swing dancing, as well as the flirtatious drama of the samba. She thought back to her lessons on the second type as she stepped in time with the popular Spanish beat.

 

She and Elsie danced through the next few songs, hair fanning out around them as they spun and laughed and jumped. When the DJ switched to a slow, romantic ballad, Gen decided it was time for a drink. She followed Elsie off the dance floor as some of the older kids started pairing up.

 

“That was fun!” Even without the thumping bass, Gen had to speak loudly to be heard.

 

They each filled a cup with water from the drink dispensers in the corner, taking long sips as they stood in line for the snack bar.

 

“Sorry again about the whole Austin thing,” Elsie said.

 

Gen shook her head, letting her loose curls bounce. “It’s not your fault. How long have your parents been married?”

 

“Almost two years. I didn’t actually think she’d go through with it, but here we are. Todd, my stepdad, isn’t too bad. My mom’s really happy with him, so it’s worth putting up with Austin a couple times a week.”

 

“It’s just the two of you?”

 

“For now,” Elsie nodded. “Mom’s having a baby in April.”

 

“Well that’s exciting, right?”

 

Elsie snorted, shuffling forward with the rest of the line. “Yeah, who wouldn’t be stoked for a screaming baby to keep them up all night? It’s funny, actually.  I always wanted a sibling. Instead I got stuck with a walking Facebook comment and a full-time babysitting gig.”

 

“Maybe it won’t be as bad as you think.”

 

“I’ll be almost sixteen by the time this baby turns one. At least Austin can go to his mom’s house when he’s sick of it.” Elsie sighed, rolling her eyes and tossing her hair. “But, enough of my self-pity. What about you? Do you have siblings?”

 

Gen shook her head. “Nope, it’s just me and my moms.”

 

Elsie nodded, looking like she was turning over her next question in her head.

 

“You can ask,” Gen assured her, sensing she wasn’t sure if Gen would be offended by her question. “Whatever it is, I won’t be offended.”

 

Elsie blushed, tucking a strand of platinum hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t pry into your personal life.”  
  
“People are curious. I get it, really. Ask whatever you want. I’d rather tell you myself than let you make assumptions.”  
  
“Okay. So, are you adopted or…” She trailed off, obviously unsure how to finish the sentence.

 

“I was adopted when I was six,” Gen told her.

 

There was a long pause in the conversation as they reached the front of the line and ordered some snacks. Gen had learned over the course of the past few days that the lodge served perfectly crispy French fries, so she ordered herself a basket and a bag of gummy bears to satisfy her sweet tooth. When both of them had their food in hand, Gen led Elsie to one of the tables along the edge of the room.

 

“So what happened to your birth family? Do you know anything about them?”

 

Gen swallowed the fry she had been chewing on. “They’re all gone. The last biological family I had was my mother, and she died about two years ago. I still remember her a little bit.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Elsie said, looking down at her popcorn. “If you don’t mind me asking, why did she give you up?”

 

“It’s okay,” Gen assured her. “I don’t mind. I was actually born in Russia, and my mother was put in prison for speaking out against the government there.”

 

“That’s terrible!”

 

“Yeah, but not uncommon. They at least had the decency to ship me off to my closest living relative. That’s how I ended up in the U.S. after she was arrested. My grandfather lived here, but he died not too long after I arrived. That’s when I got adopted.”

 

“And you never got to see your mother again?”

 

“I tried to write to her as often as I could – tried to get messages through to her. I don’t know how many of them ever made it. She was never allowed to respond anyway.”

 

Elsie looked like she didn’t know how to respond. “I’m so sorry.”

 

“Not your fault,” she shrugged. “I know she loved me. That’s all that matters. Besides how many people get to say they were raised by three moms?”

 

“That’s a good way to look at it. How old were you when you got adopted?”

 

“Six. It feels like forever ago.”

 

“I bet. And your moms didn’t try to adopt again once they had you?”  
  
Gen shook her head, grinning. “I was a bit of a handful when I was younger,” she admitted. She didn’t mention that she was probably still a handful, just in a different way. “I’m glad though. I like it being just the three of us. I wouldn’t want to share them with a sibling. Does that make me a horrible person?”

 

“Not even a little,” Elsie assured her.

 

The two of them ate, and danced, and talked, and danced some more, until the giant television on the far wall illuminated with a countdown.

 

_10, 9, 8, 7, 6…_

* * *

 

_5, 4, 3, 2, 1!_

 

Before Shaw even had time to wish her a happy New Year, Root was pressing herself against Shaw, cradling her wife’s face in her hands and she kissed her. It was long and sweet and tasted like champagne, and Shaw could have gladly stayed like that if the kiss weren’t toeing the edge of obscene in a room full of people.

 

Luckily Root was pulled away by the sound of fireworks exploding over the slopes. As they watched the colors explode over the snowy landscape, Shaw let Root keep their hands clasped together. A particularly splendid burst of coppery orange exploded beyond the gigantic windows of the lodge, and Shaw was so busy admiring the beauty of explosives that she almost didn’t notice Root looking at her.

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing, Sameen. I’m just happy I get to spend the rest of my years with you.”

 

“That better be a lot of years,” Shaw warned her.

 

* * *

 

They left the cabin the next afternoon, after sleeping in considerably and enjoying a hearty brunch. Shaw drove, Root (and the Machine) navigated, and Gen stretched out in the back seat, typing away on her phone as she and Root rehashed some of the Japanese Gen had learned. Apparently she was texting a girl she had made friends with at the party the night before, as well as Lee and a few of his friends.

 

Shaw had to admit her multitasking abilities were pretty impressive. She shot Root a pointed look as Gen told them about her new friend, sympathizing with the girl’s ideas about large age gaps between siblings.

 

“Makes me glad I’m an only child,” she said offhandedly, oblivious to the silent exchange taking place in the front seat of the SUV.

 

Shaw shot her wife another look, to which Root rolled her eyes. “You wouldn’t want a sibling, even if they were close to your age?”

 

Gen shook her head. “Nah. I like being an only child. It’s fun just the three of us.”

 

Shaw gave Root an ‘I told you so’ look and she heaved a delicate sigh, though Shaw couldn’t tell if it was a sigh of annoyance or relief.

 

By the time they finally pulled up in front of the apartment, delayed by Root’s need for two bathroom breaks along the way, the sun had gone down and left the city illuminated by street lamps.

 

“Can we eat before we unpack? I’m so hungry,” Gen complained, hauling her suitcase out of the back and making her way towards the door. Shaw’s stomach agreed loudly, despite the road snacks they’d all indulged in.

 

“I already ordered Chinese,” Root informed them.

 

Shaw grinned, shutting the hatch of the car. “Now I remember why I married you.”

 

They let Gen punch in the security code at the door and the elevator. Shaw had made sure she knew it backwards and forwards, along with the code for the front door to the loft. The building security could technically be overridden by the machine, but Shaw preferred to leave such intervention for emergencies only.

 

“I forgot how much I missed this view,” Gen said, staring out across the living room at the city lights beyond. “And my own bed. I can’t wait to roll over in my sleep and not hit my head on the guard rail.”

 

Shaw gave a little snort. “I take it the novelty of bunk beds has worn off?”

 

“Yeah. It’ll be nice to be closer to the ground again.”

Root winked to Shaw behind Gen’s back, then bid the girl to go set her suitcase in her room so it was out of the way.

 

Almost as soon as she had pushed the door open, a gasp escaped Gen’s lips. “Oh. My. Gosh!”

 

Shaw had to admit, Grace and Zoe had done an amazing job. Between Grace eye for color and pattern, and Zoe’s understanding of Gen’s style, the room had turned out pretty great.

 

They’d left most of the walls the same, but added black and white wallpaper with the names of New York streets to the alcove under the stairs. All of the furniture was new, from the sleek bed frame to the turquoise rug, to the honest-to-goodness lockers across from the window. With the exception of a few pops of aqua, the room was true to the rest of the home’s black and white theme.

 

“We thought that since you’ll be staying here permanently, your room should have a little more _you_ to it,” Root said. She’d been passing along updates to Shaw over the course of their vacation, but Shaw hadn’t seen any pictures.

 

Gen ran her hand along what Shaw assumed was the storage shelf John had complained to her about assembling a few days prior. It now housed a lamp, a pair of bookends, and a framed photo of Gen and Bear that Root had sent to her while they were on their ‘field trip’ to meet with Fusco. “This is amazing. Thank you!”

 

“Zoe and Grace are the ones you should thank,” Root informed her. “They did all of this while we were on vacation.”

 

* * *

 

Gen had trouble prying herself away from her new room when Root returned with the freshly delivered food. It seemed like every time she turned around she found some new little surprise in the space. Her grandfather’s medal had been framed in a shadow box on her bedside table so Gen could look at it every night before she went to sleep, and the collage frame above the desk already had a few black and white photos, including one of Root and Shaw standing face to face and grinning as Root dipped her pinky into what looked like a glass of champagne. It was beautifully backlit, with a gorgeous view of the skyline behind them, and Gen guessed it was taken at their wedding, based on the lacy white dress Root was wearing. She was touched to have it.

 

The few books she had to call her own were held up between the bookends on the storage unit against the wall, and someone (she assumed Zoe) had used an assortment of magnetized hooks and containers to turn one of the lockers into an improvised safe for her small collection of jewelry. The locker beneath it now housed her more expensive tech gear and hard drives, though she’d found most of her cords, earbuds, and USBs in the cubbies by her desk. They’d even replaced two of the lights by the bed with pendants, like Root and Shaw had in their room. It was truly perfect.

 

She had sent a text to Zoe that was 90% capital letters and 10% grateful nonsense. She’d then sent Grace a far more eloquent, but equally grateful message, before succumbing to her hunger and joining her moms at the table.

 

“So, you like it?” Root asked, opening her orange chicken.

 

“It’s perfect,” Gen assured her. “Everything is perfect.”

 

Soon the conversation turned to work that had piled up in their absence, groceries that needed acquiring, and Gen’s impending first day of school. She couldn’t help but smile as she helped herself to the rice. She had a home that truly felt like it was hers, parents who really, truly cared, and an amazing hodgepodge of an extended family that wanted to make her feel loved. A brilliant new school was little more than icing on the cake that had somehow become her life.

 

Delicious icing, but icing nonetheless.

 

* * *

 

[Link to bonus content here!](https://www.tumblr.com/tagged/fwtvu-bonus-content)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Gen's first day of school, and Shaw and Gen have to get by without Root. As always, your comments are what keep this story going, so please leave all of your thoughts below! Thanks for reading, and I'll see you again for chapter 15!


	15. A Purpose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Root and Shaw go into hardcore mom mode, Root takes a business trip, and Gen has her first day of classes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo... I'm still alive. I'm sorry! I just really haven't been inspired to work on this lately and I've been busy too. I'm sitting down to write a hard outline for the last half of this tomorrow, which will hopefully reignite my flame. Hopefully this is worth the wait!

“You’re up early.”  
  
Shaw didn’t look up from the orange she was cutting. “So are you.”  
  
Root grinned to herself as she descended the last few stairs. “I have to pack,” she said as she made her way to the island. “What’s your excuse?”  
  
Shaw shrugged and put the orange slices in a plastic bag. “Just wanted to gen Gen’s lunch packed.”  
  
“You woke up at five in the morning to pack Gen’s lunch?” Root quirked a eyebrow  
  
“I’m going to the gym when I’m done. My leg’s stiff.”  
  
Root sighed, trailing a hand up Shaw’s back and rubbing the base of her skull with her thumb. “You pushed yourself in Vermont. Maybe you need rest?”  
  
“I need to keep my momentum,” Shaw corrected her, returning to the fridge. “I need to keep working through it.”   
  
Root walked around the island, watching Shaw assemble a turkey sandwich from atop one of the barstools. Sameen looked up at her, butter knife in hand. “Shouldn’t you be packing?”  
  
“You’re worried,” Root observed.   
  
She expected Shaw to lie, to deny it. Instead, she took a deep breath and reached for the lettuce. “I keep thinking about the last time I dropped her off at a new school. She hated it there…”  
  
“Sameen, you weren’t responsible for that. It was the best you could do in a tough situation. Besides, she was Harold’s ward, not yours. You didn’t exactly get a vote.”   
  
“I just want her to be happy,” Shaw admitted.   
  
“I know that,” Root reminded her. “And so does Gen. But has she given you any reason to believe she won’t be happy there?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“And do you trust her to tell you if something is upsetting her?”  
  
“I guess.”  
  
“Then there’s nothing to worry about.”Shaw didn’t look completely convinced, but conceded anyway. “Alright, but if Moore turns out to be a drug dealer too, I’m shooting him myself.”  
  
Root laughed to herself as she slid off her stool. “I won’t stand in your way, Sameen. Have fun at the gym!”

 

* * *

  
  
  
By the time Gen’s alarm went off she had already been up for twenty minutes. Her wardrobe had quintupled in size since she’d arrived at Root and Shaw’s place, and yet she still felt like nothing in her closet was quite the right thing to wear. Zoe was always telling her that outward appearances could be used to convey things without words, but Gen didn’t know what exactly she was trying to convey. Intelligence? Confidence? Friendliness?  
  
She was staring down at the options on her bed when someone knocked on the door. “Gen, are you up?” It was Root’s voice on the other side of the door.  
  
“It’s open, you can come in.”  
  
“Can’t decide what to wear?”   
  
“I almost miss my uniform,” Gen admitted. “Which one do you like?”  
  
Root stood next to her and appraised the options laid out on the bed. She was, of course, already dressed in a clean-cut pair of trousers and blazer. She looked ready to take on the world.   
“I think this one’s my favorite,” she said after a moment. “You should wear your brown boots with it.” Root excused herself so Gen could change and get ready, promising to do her hair after breakfast. Gen could do it herself, and Root knew that, but Gen let her do it anyway. Besides, it would be the last time she would be there to do it for a few days.  
  
She tried not to think too much about Root’s impending trip as she slipped into the bathroom and turned on the tap. When she had brushed her teeth, washed and moisturized her face, and put on a smidge of makeup she went back to her room and changed out of her pajamas.  
  
Root’s chosen outfit was a pair of black skinny jeans and a burgundy Henley with a grey plaid scarf. She decided to forgo a lot of accessories and just wear her watch and a black pair of studs in her ears. Not bad, she thought as she eyed herself in the bathroom mirror.   
  
“I think I’m ready,” she announced as she walked into the living room. “What do you think?”   
  
“Very cute, Sweet Pea.” Root was standing at the stove with what looked like enough food for a small army. “Sameen should be down in a minute. Why don’t you come get a plate?”  
  
Shaw came downstairs with slightly damp hair a few minutes later and joined the two of them at the island while Root ran through a long string of reminders.   
  
“You two should be fine on groceries for the week, and I’ve made enough of this to last a few days so you can just heat some up in the microwave before school, okay?”  
  
Gen nodded and Root plowed on.   
  
“Sameen packed you a lunch today, but if you want to get lunch from school you can. I’ll be gone when school gets out but Sam’s going to pick you up at three on the dot. If you need me for anything at all, you just need to call, okay?”   
  
“I’ll be fine,” Gen assured her. “We’ve got this, right Shaw?”  
  
“Piece of cake.”  
  
Root released a prim sigh. “Alright. And even if you don’t need anything, call me when you get home. I want to hear about your first day.”  
  
Gen agreed that she would call at some point before she went to sleep, then went to put her dishes in the dishwasher. Root braided the front of Gen’s hair and Shaw went back upstairs to grab Root’s bags and her shoes. Before she knew it the three of them were tossing on their coats and shoes and hurrying out the door.   
  
They insisted on walking her in, even after Gen protested that they had better things to do. When they walked into the office Miss Osman was waiting for them with a clipboard and a smile. “Good morning! I hope you’re excited for your first day.”  
  
“You bet! Is that for me?” She indicated the clipboard in Osman’s hands.  
  
“Yes,” she said, handing it over. “Your class schedule is at the top, and I also wrote down your locker number and the lock combination. There are a few forms underneath that you’ll need to sign and return to me, including the physical education exemption form. Take them home and read them carefully before you sign and if you have any questions about what’s on there, talk to me during study period tomorrow. Okay?”  
  
Gen nodded. “Any chance there’s a map?”  
  
“I know this place can be a bit hard to navigate at first, but you’ll get used to it pretty quickly. If you’re ready, I can show you to your locker.”  
  
“I think that’s your cue to go,” Gen said, turning to Root and Shaw.   
  
Shaw squeezed her shoulder. “Have fun, Kiddo. I’ll see you at 15:00 hours on the dot.”  
  
“Have a good day,” Root smiled, pulling her in for a hug. “I’ll text you when I land, alright?”  
  
Gen nodded as she stepped back. “Have a safe flight.”  
  
Root seemed like she wanted to say more, but Shaw practically dragged her back the way they had come in. When they were out of sight Gen turned back around to face Miss Osman. As they walked deeper into the school the young teacher explained a few of the things that Alex hadn’t mentioned during her tour.   
  
“One thing you’ll notice today is that none of our classes are restricted by grade level. So, you might find yourself in classes that have a bit of an age range today. Don’t be intimidated if you find yourself working alongside older students. We believe you guys can earn as much from each other as you can from us and want you to take advantage of those opportunities.”  
  
“Got it. So, I noticed that I don’t have a teacher listed for my study period. Is that a mistake or am I just supposed to go to my homeroom then?”  
  
“No, that’s not a mistake. You have complete freedom during those forty-five minutes. Use that time to talk to your teachers, study with your classmates, work on homework, or basically do anything else you need to do as long as it pertains to your education.”  
  
“And I can do it wherever I want?”  
  
“Not quite. Some rooms will be off-limits during that time, like the science labs and the gym, but otherwise you can go to any classroom you’d like. The library is also a good choice if you need quiet to focus. Here we go! Your locker is right over here.”  
  
Gen used the combination on her class schedule to open the lock, listening intently to the steady clicking as she turned the dial. Just as the lock popped open, a series of soft bell-like sounds reverberated over the speakers in the hall. “That’s the warning bell. I have to get back my classroom, but I’ll see you later today for coding.” Miss Osman gave her directions to her homeroom before wishing her good luck.  
  
“Thanks for your help!” Gen took off her backpack and hung it up, unloading all the fresh binders and notebooks and placing them on the shelf inside. _What do I need?_ She looked down at her schedule.   
  
8:30 – 8:55 Homeroom (Selman, J.)  
9:00 – 10:25 World History (Vandenberg, C.)  
10:30 – 11:55 Coding 2 (Osmund, Y.)  
12:00 – 12:40 Lunch B   
12:45– 2:10 Modern Languages (Linares, M.)  
2:15 – 3:00 Study period  
  
She took the binders for history and coding, but left the one she’d gotten for her languages class. With the help of Miss Osman’s directions, she was able to make her way to a classroom with ‘Mrs. Selman, Literature and Composition’ on the plastic plaque next to the door. As she eased the door open, trying to draw as little attention to herself as possible, she could hear a woman’s voice addressing the class.   
  
“…back to business as usual. I have one important announcement to make, first. We are joined today by a new student.”  
  
The door clicked shut behind her and suddenly all eyes were on Gen. “I’m sorry I’m late,” she said, trying to project the confidence she didn’t feel.   
  
“You must be Miss Shaw. Come stand up here with me.” Mrs. Selman was a short woman with dark hair and hazel eyes. If Gen had to guess, she would say she was Italian and when she stood next to her in front of the rest of the class, she was a hair taller than the English teacher. Mrs. Selman motioned for her to come forward and Gen obeyed. “As I was saying,” she addressed the class, “we have a new student joining us for the first time today. Miss Shaw, why don’t you tell us about yourself?”  
  
Gen pushed her chin up a little as she faced the class, hoping it made her look confident and not snobby. She felt a wave of relief when she spotted a familiar face to her left and smiled at Marissa. “There’s not much to tell. My name is Genevieve Shaw, but everyone just calls me Gen. I’m an eighth grader and my main academic interests are languages and computer science.”  
  
“Very interesting,” Mrs. Selman said, and Gen thought she might be in the clear. No such luck though. “Who has a question for Miss Shaw?”  
  
Several hands shot up into the air and Mrs. Selman nodded to a girl in the middle of the room who wore her black hair to the middle of her back. “Where are you from?”  
  
“I was born in Russia, but I’ve lived in New York since I was little.”  
  
The next question came from a boy with red hair that was cropped close to his head. “Where did you transfer from?”  
  
When she revealed that she had been a student at Fitzhugh Quinell murmurs started to rumble around the room, but were quickly shut down by the teacher. The next student she called on was a skinny girl with round glasses and mahogany braids framing her face. “When’s your birthday?”  
  
“April 17th,” she rattled off. When she noticed the girl doing some sort of calculation in her head she added “I’m an Aries.” Her old roommate Lexi had gone through a serious astrology phase the year before and been obsessed with birth charts, horoscopes, and trying to categorize everyone she met into one of twelve boxes. Apparently this was what the skinny girl had been trying to figure out because she nodded and relaxed back into her chair.  
  
A round-faced boy towards the front of the room asked if she had siblings and quiet girl from the back of the class wanted to know if she could speak Russian still.   
  
Gen nodded, feeling a little more at ease in the front of the room than she had a few minutes ago. “I’m still fluent,” she confirmed. “But I think I have an accent from living in New York for so long.”  
  
“Alright, one last question before I let you go sit down,” Mrs. Selman promised. “What did you do over winter break?”  
  
“I spent Christmas at home with my family, then my moms and I went on a skiing in Vermont.”  
  
Finally, she was dismissed from the front and allowed to settle down in the desk next to Marissa while the teacher asked the rest of the class about their vacations. The ballet dancer shot her a reassuring smile as she sat down and Gen was grateful to have at least one friend on her first day. She’d been alone a lot in her life and she was sick of it. Familiarity was growing on her, that much she knew for sure. 

 

* * *

  
  
Seattle was a mess. Root had known as much two months ago when she had sent Jason there to lay the groundwork for a new team at the Machine’s behest. She certainly had to give him due credit as she climbed the steps of an unremarkable office building. He had handled the task beautifully.   
  
She closed her umbrella as she reached the door and pulled it open. The directory in the lobby didn’t list Thornhill Technologies on any of its eight floors, but Root knew Jason had set up shop on the fifth floor, all the way at the end of the hall. He said he had picked the space because it had the easiest access to the back stairwell and the fewest windows.   
  
He learns quickly, she thought to herself as she got off the elevator and followed the hallway to the last door on the right. The security panel next to the door was unique to this particular suite. Root waited a moment as the Machine transmitted the eight digit code to her then punched it in. The lock clicked quietly, allowing her to push the door open and enter an empty reception area.   
  
“Jason?”  
  
One of the doors on the opposite wall flew open to reveal a bearded man with shaggy hair and a navy flannel. “Root! I was worried your flight was delayed by the storm.”  
  
Root waved a dismissive hand. “Nothing a good pilot can’t handle. How are you settling in? I know it’s a far cry from Colombia, but I had hoped you would at least like it here a little.”“It’s actually been pretty good so far,” he admitted rubbing the back of his neck. “I do miss the sun a bit, but my Spanish sucked, so…”  
  
“I know we have a lot to talk about,” Root said as she set down her umbrella, “but I was hoping we could get straight to business?”  
  
Jason motioned for her to follow him into the office he had occupied when she arrived. “She sent me a handful of good candidates, but these two are my frontrunners. I didn’t mean to jump the gun or anything, I just wanted to make as much progress as I could.”  
  
He handed her a tablet off the desk and she glanced at the pair of files he had pulled up. The first was for a young woman with an auburn bob, hazel eyes, and slightly upturned nose. “Tell me about her.”  
  
“Naomi Harrison,” Jason started. “Twenty-eight, single, lives alone, recently discharged from the Navy. She only popped up on my radar a few days ago.” “But you clearly think she has promise,” Root noted. “Why?”  
  
“Because I’ve been having a hell of a time trying to access her files from the last three years. Which means…”  
  
“There’s something there that we’re not supposed to see.”   
  
“Exactly.”  
  
Root swiped to the next file. “What about him?”   
  
“Richmond Dean III. Ex-marine,” Jason said. “Thirty-three, single, lives uptown with his cat, Domino. He’s been working for a private security company for the last two years, but I think he’s got untapped potential.”  
  
“Why do you say that?”  
  
“An injury supposedly ended his military career, but it doesn’t keep him out of the gym six days a week. So, I looked into his history. Turns out it wasn't the injury that got him discharged.”  
  
“He was a liability,” Root said, scanning his psych evals. “Anxiety and PTSD from the accident.”   
  
Jason nodded. “He sees a therapist once a week and joined a support group. It seems like he’s in control again.”  
  
Root pursed her lips. “The human brain is a tricky thing.”   
  
She tried not to think of Shaw. She didn’t want to relive the nightmare that had been her recovery. It was like every time they knocked down one wall, another sprang up. She’d battled anxiety attacks, night terrors, bizarre triggers, and long periods of detachment for months after she got back. Root had been there for it all.  
  
She knew that some scars didn’t show up on the skin.  
  
Jason took note of her expression. “You think he could spell trouble for us too?”  
  
“Not necessarily.” Root mused. “Sometimes people just need a purpose.”

 

* * *

  
  
  
Shaw tried to ignore the sidelong glances of the other parents as she leaned against the door of the SUV. A few kids had already started trickling out the doors of the school but Gen hadn’t been among them. Finally, she spotted her with the girl who had given her the tour and another girl with long brown hair. Gen said her goodbyes to the two of them and jogged over to the car.   
  
“How was it? You look like you made it out okay,” Shaw said, opening the passenger door and walking over to the driver’s side.  
  
“It was great! It’s really different from the other schools I’ve gone to.”  
  
“Those your friends?” Shaw pointed to the girls Gen had been walking with, then started the car.   
  
“I think so,” the girl said after a moment. “I want them to be.”  
  
Shaw nodded, not sure how to respond to that. She thought Gen was smart and funny, but maybe that wasn’t enough for kids these days. Truth be told, she had never really won any popularity contests in school.   
  
“You missed the turn,” Gen said as Shaw guided the car through traffic.  
  
“Actually, we’re not going home yet. I have a surprise for you.”  
Gen perked up at that. “Is it a gun?”  
  
“You’re not ready,” Shaw told her for what felt like the hundredth time. When she had determined that they were close enough to their destination, Shaw looked for a good place to park and instructed Gen to find the bag in the backseat.   
  
“What’s this for?”  
  
“It’s a change of clothes. You’ll want to put your hair up too,” Shaw advised.   
  
Gen got out of the car and followed her into the building, realization dawning on her face as she took in the mats, the mirrors, and the punching bags.  
  
“Changing rooms are that way,” Shaw said before Gen could get in a word. The girl scurried off in the direction she had indicated and Shaw started seeking out a familiar face amongst the few that were milling about the gym.   
  
“Shaw!” Mike was standing near the corner, waving her over. Her friend hadn’t changed much from their Marie Corps days, save for a new haircut and a short brown beard dusting his face. “Where’s the kid?”  
  
“Sent her to get changed. How’s the leg?”  
  
Mike shrugged. The injury had ended his military career, but allowed him to realize his passion for training fighters. Shaw just hoped Gen would connect with him.   
  
“Still shit,” he admitted. “Yours?”  
  
“Not as shit. Still slowing me down though.”   
  
“You doing your PT?”  
  
Shaw rolled her eyes. “You sound like my wife.”  
  
Mike ran a hand through his short curls. “What’s it been, eight months since you first walked in here? I’m still not used to hearing that. You just…didn’t seem the type.”  
  
Shaw was about to respond when Gen’s voice rang out behind her. “Mom, did you put any bobby pins in here?”  
  
Mike’s face slackened for a long moment before snapping back to incredulousness.   
  
“In the front pocket,” Shaw offered, smirking despite herself.   
  
“The kid is _yours_?” Mike whispered like it was a secret.  
  
“It’s a long story. Can you teach her or not?”  
  
Mike eyed Gen’s lanky frame, now clothed in athletic wear. “Yeah, I can teach her.”  
  
Gen jogged over to the two of them, shoving a bobby pin into her hair as she went.   
  
“Kiddo, I want you to meet a friend of mine. This is Mikhail Varonov.”  
  
“I’m Gen,” she offered, holding out a hand.   
  
“Coach Mike,” he said, shaking it firmly. “I’m gonna teach you how to kick ass.”  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys want to help reignite my spark for this story, a comment is the best way to do it! What did you like? What characters do you want to see more? What do you think will happen next? Let me know in that box down there!


	16. People Help the People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Work-life balance gets tricky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo... sorry about that. And by “that” I mean ditching this fic for several months. But, I’m back now and swore to myself that I would post two chapters this month! Here’s the first. Chapter title is stolen from a song by Birdy. This is the song Marissa dances to in the first part of the chapter. 
> 
> Warning for discussion of rape later in the chapter. Nothing is explicitly discussed but it is heavily implied.

By the time Friday finally rolled around, Gen was exhausted. Between her first few training sessions with Coach Mike and her first week of classes at Zenith, she’d been giving everything she had from the moment she got up to the moment she crawled into bed. And now, Friday had finally arrived, welcoming her into its open arms. 

 

“Are you doing anything after school?” 

 

Alex glanced up at her from where she was typing up a long string of code. They were sitting across from one another in the computer lab, both trying to finish their homework for Monday before study period ended and school was finished for the day. “I have conditioning in the morning, but I’m free tonight.”   
  
Gen quirked an eyebrow. “Conditioning for what?”

 

“Krav Maga. I’m _this_ close to getting my blue belt,” she said, holding her fingers a breath apart.

 

“I didn’t know you were into martial arts.”

  
  
“I’m barely five feet tall, G. My parents put me in that shit when I was ten years old and never looked back.”

 

“Huh, I never would have guessed…”

 

“And that, Genevieve is my secret weapon. Now, I believe you were in the middle of inviting me to something?”

 

“Oh, right. Some of my friends and I are going ice skating in Rockefeller Center after school. We won’t be out super late or anything, we just wanted to celebrate finishing our first week back at school. I’ve got the night off from MMA training and their hockey coach cancelled their practice. You feel like coming?”

 

“Yeah, let me text my mom to ask,” she said pulling out her phone. “I have to warn you though, I’m a terrible skater. Your friends better not laugh at me.

 

Gen thought back to Lee’s birthday party, remembering how Malcolm had held her hands and guided her around the rink until she was able to do it on her own. “Trust me, they won’t.”

 

Alex set her phone down on the table, waiting for a response. “I think Mari has the night off from rehearsal now that her show is over. We should see if she wants to come too.”

 

“I’ll text her,” Gen offered, scrolling through her ever-increasing list of contacts until she came across Marissa’s name. Alex’s mom was grilling her for details, but eventually allowed her to go on the condition that she got a ride home from Gen so she could meet her parents. By the time the bell sounded, signaling the end of the day, Marissa still hadn’t responded.

 

“Come on, I know where she is,” Alex said, leading her towards a staircase at the end of the hall. As they approached the studios Gen could hear music drifting down the hall. 

 

_ Oh and if I had a brain _

_ I'd be cold as a stone and rich as a fool _

_ That turned all those good hearts away… _

 

The door to the last studio in the hall was half open, letting music spill out and light spill in. Marissa had left the lights inside the studio off, dancing barefoot with her hair flowing free. Her back was towards them and Gen couldn’t help but admire the way she moved as she and Alex stood in the doorway watching.

 

_ God knows what is hiding in this world of little consequence _

_ Behind the tears, inside the lies _

_ A thousand slowly dying sunsets _

 

Marissa must have known the song well, Gen thought, because she moved in perfect sync with it, balancing on long pauses and turning into a breathtaking leap when it crescendoed. It was beautiful, yes, but Gen was more fascinated by the power behind the movement. Marissa wasn’t a physically intimidating person by any means, but she clearly had strength. 

 

They watched in silence as their friend continued to dance. Gen guessed that Alex was waiting for the song to end before they made themselves known but that was thrown out the window when a third person joined them at the door.

 

“You’ll ruin your technique doing that,” the newcomer chided. She was about Gen’s height and just as slim, but her platinum hair was arranged in a smooth bun and her blue eyes were heavily made up with eyeliner and mascara in deep shades of black.

 

To Marissa’s credit, she only faltered for a moment. “My technique will be fine, Vic. It's less harm than missing two weeks of classes,” she said pointedly, still dancing as the last strains of the song filtered through the speakers. 

 

_ So this is Victoria, _ Gen thought, looking the girl over again. She was pretty, if a little overzealous with her beauty products. Her clothes looked expensive and new, not that Gen could judge. Zoe hadn’t exactly taken her to the Gap on their little shopping spree. 

 

Marissa had told Gen about Victoria over lunch just the day before. Apparently they had been at odds lately, which Mari attributed to envy. Victoria had been her understudy for “The Nutcracker” and was the only other student at Zenith in her dance program. Marissa said it was just a bit of healthy competition, but Alex reminded her that it was easy to see it that way when Marissa always won. Victoria was on an extended vacation to visit her grandfather, who was apparently a senator from Maine. Even Alex admitted she had a big bead about it.

 

“We’ll see when spring casting comes out, won’t we?” Victoria seemed awfully confident, despite everything.

 

Marissa began gathering up her things from around the studio. “I guess we will. Have you met my friend Gen yet?”

 

“Pleasure,” Victoria said, extending a hand. Based on the acid in her tone, Gen got the impression that it really wasn’t a pleasure at all. She didn’t say anything though, just shook Victoria’s hand.

 

“Gen invited us ice skating with her friends from Walsh,” Alex told Marissa. “Do you still have the night off from class?”

 

Marissa swept her hair away from her face, nodding. “Give me five minutes to freshen up and call my dad. Hell want to know where I’m going.”

 

“I wish I could go,” Victoria sighed. “I have a private lesson though. Maybe next time?”

 

“Next time,” Gen repeated, trying not to laugh at the fact that Victoria hadn’t really been invited in the first place.

 

The three of them took the subway to Rockefeller Center, sticking close together on the packed train. As they approached the rink, she spotted Maddy’s dark curls poking out above the crowd and realized she was on Wyatt’s back, scanning the crowd as well.

 

“I see her!” Maddy smacked Wyatt’s shoulder in excitement, demanding to be let down.

 

“Not so loud,” Wyatt complained, crouching down so Maddy’s feet could reach the ground again. “I’m right here.”

 

“Sorry Wy.”

 

“He’s not going to be much use in games if you deafen him,” Gen teased.

 

“He doesn’t need his ears to know when to crush someone into the boards,” she shrugged before opening her arms for a hug. “I feel like it’s been ages. How’s the new school?”

 

Gen gave her a brief rundown on her first week at Zenith, then introduced her and Wyatt to Marissa and Alex. She nearly laughed when Wyatt shook Marissa’s hand. Mari was so slender and short, and Wyatt was so overgrown, that his hand dwarfed hers by comparison.

 

“Where’s your brother?” Gen scanned the crowd for any sign of Malcolm or Lee, but didn’t see either of them. She couldn’t help the pang of disappointment she felt at the thought that they might have decided not to come at the last minute.

 

“He and Lee had to run to the bathroom. They should be back soon.”

 

In the meantime, Gen helped Alex and Marissa rent some skates and put them on, then stood to greet Lee and Malcolm when they emerged from the crowd. Both of them met her with hugs, as if they were much older friends than they were. Gen didn’t mind though and once everyone had been introduced to Alex and Mari they took their first tentative steps onto the ice. 

 

Gen was pleased to find that her body seemed to easily remember the motion of skating, though she kept Malcolm’s gloved hand in hers, just to be safe. Marissa, despite all her grace on solid ground, was like a baby deer on the ice, holding tight to Wyatt’s hands as he skated backwards to stabilize her and blushing furiously every time he caught her mid-stumble.

 

Alex wasn’t half as bad as she had led Gen to believe and she was quickly doing laps with Lee and Maddy, laughing loudly as they wove between slower skaters and chirped at one another. Gen pretended not to notice the panicked look on her face when Maddy brushed a lock of her short hair away from Alex’s eyes. Malcolm’s chuckle from beside her said that he had caught the interaction too.

 

“Are they flirting?”

 

Malcolm shrugged. “Who knows? Maddy’s a very tactile person.”

 

“Is… does she...she likes girls?” Gen could feel her cheeks reddened at the way the question stumbled out of her mouth. They were both being raised by same-sex couples and she couldn’t ask if Malcolm if his sister was gay? 

 

He just shrugged again. “You should ask her that.”

 

“Right, of course…” She was blushing again, but hoped he would attribute it to the cold. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

 

“It’s not a big deal, Gen. You shouldn’t feel bad for being curious. It’s just not my place to tell people stuff about her that she’s still figuring out herself, you know?”

 

Gen thought of her tour with Alex. She had been so stunned by the other girl’s certainty in her identity that Gen had worried that maybe something was wrong with her own feelings. She knew how a crush was supposed to feel, or at least she thought she did. She just hadn’t ever felt that way about anyone. It was a shock to her to realize that Alex had had so many that she could confidently say that boys couldn’t and wouldn’t make her feel the way that girls did. 

 

Knowing that Maddy felt similarly was an unexpected comfort.

 

She was pulled from her thoughts by a vibration at her wrist. The screen of her watch was lit up with a text from Root reminding her to call before bed tonight and promising that she would bring Gen a souvenir from Seattle.

 

The apartment had felt different without her and Gen couldn’t wait for her to come home. Still, she reminded herself that Root’s work was important and tried to sound upbeat on their phone calls every night. She didn’t want to make Root feel guilty for doing her job.

 

“Your mom?” Malcolm pointed to the tiny screen.

 

She nodded. “She’s on a business trip.”

 

He was in the middle of asking where she had gone when Maddy sped past and stole his hat, cutting across the ice when Lee tried to grab it back.

 

Soon all seven of them were chasing each other around the rink, laughing when the hat changed hands and when Marissa tried to swerve out of the way of a pair of tourists, only to crash square into Wyatt’s chest and send both of them tumbling onto the ice. When the sun began to sink behind the taller buildings around them, they made their way off the ice and took their skates off. 

 

Gen sat between Lee and Malcolm, unlacing her rented skates as they planned their next meet up. She shot Shaw a text to tell her they were going to get hot chocolate and asking her to pick her and Alex up from the cafe. Her watch vibrated with a response a moment later, but it wasn’t from Shaw. It was a text from an unknown sender with only two words.

 

_ Get down. _

 

* * *

  
  


Naomi Harrison was a hard sell. Dean hadn’t taken much convincing once he saw the way Root and Jason operated, but Miss Harrison was proving far more suspicious. She hadn’t appreciated Root tailing her across town all day, really hadn’t liked being asked about her sealed records from the Navy, and especially didn’t seem fond of Root using both of those things to lead into a job offer. 

 

“So, you’re some sort of government contractor?”

 

“Not exactly,” Root said, crossing her ankles primly as Naomi paced the floor of her apartment.

 

“Either you are or you aren’t.”

 

“We’re not. At least, I’m not. We help people who are in over their heads.”

 

“I told myself I wouldn’t go back to working for Uncle Sam and I won’t. There’s no senator pulling your strings, no stipend from the pentagon?”

 

“If anything,  _ we _ pull the strings,” Root admitted. “Why are you so against working for the government anyway?”

 

“The Navy ruined my life,” she spat. “I gave my all for a decade, day in and day out. I was the first one up in the morning and the last to sleep each night and I earned every promotion I got with blood sweat and tears. When I made Lieutenant Commander I felt like all the work was paying off. They started giving me special assignments, each one more classified than the last. I felt so special that I didn’t even think to question the assignments. And then my commander called me to his office one night…”

 

She swallowed hard, steadying herself as Root gazed on in interest. 

 

“He offered me a coffee and I was so damn tired I just accepted it. By the time I realized he had drugged me the whole thing was gone.”

 

She didn’t have to say what happened next. Root knew all too well what would have happened next. She thought of Hanna, she thought of Gen, and her guy twisted almost painfully.

 

Naomi continued, running a hand through her auburn hair. “When I finally brought the allegations forward, it was his word against mine and he outranked me. I was discredited and sent on my way but word got around. When I heard some ensign joking about how I slept my way to my position, I punched him in the face. After that I guess they decided I wasn’t worth the trouble I caused. I was lucky to receive an honorable discharge.”

 

“I can’t undo what happened to you,” Root admitted. “However, I can give you the chance to keep it from happening to someone else right here in Seattle. You have skills most people don’t. Why not use them to do what you set out to do in the first place? Help people, right here.”

 

She took a deep breath. “You said this is a small team? You can promise me I won’t have to answer to some Washington asshat?”

 

“Just three people trying to make Seattle a little safer,” Root promised. “No politicians.”

 

Naomi considers it for a long moment, still playing with her hair. “I’ll give you a week to convince me,” she finally said. “One week to prove that this is really about helping people.”

 

Root grinned victoriously. “I’m sure you’ll be hooked after a day. Still, I accept your terms. I’ll have Jason send you all the information you’ll need and get you up to speed on—”

 

Her train of thought was interrupted by the familiar voice in her head, or rather her ear.

 

“ _ Tracking person of interest…state intervention: failed. PoI approaching Rockefeller Center. Threat level: high. Now alerting secondary asset Shaw. Now connecting to primary asset Shaw.” _

 

Root sprang to her feet. Gen was supposed to be at Rockefeller center. It was all she had talked about on the phone the previous night. Was she still there? 

 

“I have to go. Someone will be in contact soon,” she said, bolting from the apartment as the sound of Shaw’s phone ringing filled her ear.  _ Please pick up… _

 

“Hello?”

 

“Sameen! Where’s Gen? Is she with you?”

 

“I’m picking her up now,” Shaw said. “She just texted me to get her from the cafe by the rink. Why? Is something wrong?”

 

“Yes, there’s a relevant number headed for Rockefeller Center. How close are you?”

 

“I just parked the car. I’m walking up 49th right…”

 

The rest of her sentence was drowned out by three sharp pops, then the sound of screaming.

 

“Sameen? Sameen! Do you see her? Sam!”

 

The line went dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys liked this chapter and want more, please let me know down below! Reviews are the beating heart of this story!


	17. Into the Fray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here comes the fallout...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did it! I said I would publish two chapters in June, and I did! Are you guys proud of me?

Shaw heard the shots before she saw the shooter. Honestly, all she was looking for was Gen’s red coat and golden hair. The plaza was full of people, some screaming, some running, some still standing stunned. None of the ones she saw were Gen. 

 

She could hear Root calling her name over the speaker in her phone but the sound stopped when a bypasser knocked onto her and sent it flying. She didn’t bother looking for it; the phone was almost certainly crushed by the ensuing flood of people trying to exit the plaza.

 

The shots had started again, coming in rapid succession this time. Drawing her gun, Shaw propelled herself into the fray. Her leg ached, but she pushed the discomfort aside easily and kept pushing against the fleeing crowds. 

 

He wasn’t hard to spot. The asshole was making a big fucking show of standing on a table and shooting blindly around him as people ran. There was no clear shot from the waist down, thanks to the tourists and residents that were still trying to flee.

 

_Headshot it is._

 

The kill was as clean and clinical as everything else she did — a single bullet through the temple that sent a puff of crimson into the frigid air. The body hadn’t even hit the ground before she was looking for Gen again. She and her friends couldn’t have gone far.

 

She clicked the safety on and put her gun away, turning to scan the plaza again. There was going to be a huge mess to clean up when it was all over, but that wasn’t priority in the moment. Gen was somewhere in this mess and Shaw had to find her and make sure she wasn’t hit, or worse…

 

_You know that thing that made you flinch? I don’t get that._

 

_You don’t get scared?_

 

 _I didn’t used to,_ Shaw thought to herself. She was a sociopath. And yet her brain and her body were in conflict, one remaining clearly focused while the other suffered under a newfound feeling of being compressed. It was horribly uncomfortable. _How do people live like this?_

 

In the end, she heard Gen before she saw her. 

 

She looked to be crouched down in the epicenter of it all, occasionally shouting over her shoulder. A tall blond kid and one of the girls Shaw recognized from Gen’s school were hovering a few feet away, working together. It was hard to tell from so far away, but all three of them looked okay.

 

“How’s it going back there?” Gen didn’t look up from where she was pressing what looked like her scarf into a young woman’s shoulder.

 

“Could be better,” the short girl with the bob replied. She was crouched over a middle-aged guy in a suit, apparently taking his pulse while the blond kid held a blood-soaked swath of something against his leg. Whoever the man was, he was in bad shape.

 

“Give him something to bite,” the tall boy (if he could be called that) ordered.

 

“What? Why?” Despite her questioning, the girl next to him obeyed, taking off her mittens and rolling them into a ball. 

 

The blond kid was already slipping his belt around the older man’s leg by the time the girl (Alex, Shaw thought her name was) forced the mittens into his mouth. 

 

“Because this is gonna suck,” he said, tightening the belt with all of his considerable strength. 

 

Shaw reached them just as the man passed out. 

 

“Mom! I’ve been trying to call you! Your phone is going straight to voicemail.” 

 

“It’s broken. What’s going on here?”

 

“We found them like this,” Gen said, as if Shaw would have thought that she had shot them. “She has a single shoulder wound, and Wyatt and Alex’s guy was shot in the leg.” 

 

Shaw stood still for a moment to assess the situation. The woman had been shot on the right side so her heart was safe. The man, on the other hand, looked to be in much worse shape. His face was pale, he had just lost consciousness, and the location of his injury meant that his femoral artery might have been nicked. She went to go help the duo at his side. 

 

“Okay kiddo, hold pressure on that shoulder while I help your friends,” Shaw instructed. She could hear a chorus of sirens starting to close in on all sides, but focused on the task at hand.

 

“This is good work,” she noted, looking over the boy’s tourniquet.

 

“Thanks,” he mumbled. “I’m Wyatt, by the way.”

 

“Where’d you learn to do this, Wyatt? Boy Scouts?”

 

“My mom.”

 

“She a Doctor?”

 

“Sort of.”

 

Shaw didn’t worry about what that meant. “Gen, where's the rest of your group?”

 

“We sent them to the street to flag town medics when the shooting stopped. That was you, wasn’t it? You took him down?”

 

Sam ignored the amazed glances of Gen’s friends when she said yeah. 

 

“If Gen hadn’t told us to get down when she did, this could be one of us,” Alex said as she surveyed the plaza.

 

Damn it, the girl was about to sink into shock. “You’re Alex, right? You gave Gen the tour?”

 

The short girl nodded. 

 

“Okay Alex, I need you to do something kind of gross. Can you handle it?” When the girl nodded again, Shaw pressed on. “I need you to go check everyone else who’s down for a pulse. Medics will be here as soon as the police clear the plaza and they need to know who they can save.”

 

Hopefully having a job to do would keep her mind occupied. 

 

“I can help,” Wyatt offered. “I’m not grossed out by dead people.”

 

“Yeah, go. I’ve got this under control.”

 

The two of them scurried off to check on the nearest victims while Gen and Shaw held pressure. 

 

“Hey kiddo?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Do me a favor and call your mom. She’s probably panicking right now.”

 

* * *

 

Root made good time getting home from Seattle. Despite the Machine’s assurances that both Gen and Sameen were safe, she couldn’t get back to New York fast enough. The private jet had certainly helped though. 

 

“You’re still up,” she said, dropping her bags by the door to the apartment.

 

Shaw stood up from where she had been lounging on the couch with a beer in hand. “Knew you’d be back soon.”

 

Root didn’t say anything else, just wrapped Shaw up in her arms and held on tight for a few moments. She expected her wife to grumble about the affection but was surprised when she wrapped her arms around Root’s body in return. This was her safe place and her whole body knew it. She could feel the tension in her shoulders start to dissipate as she breathed in Shaw’s familiar smell. 

 

“I’m glad you’re okay.”

 

“I’m glad I was there.”

 

“I want to hear everything that happened,” Root said as she stepped back, “but first I need to see Gen.”

 

Shaw tilted her head towards Gen’s door. “I sent her to bed a couple hours ago. She had a hell of a day.”

 

When she eased the door open Root could see Gen curled up in her bed with Bear beside her. Ever vigilant, the dog’s ears perked up at the slight sound of the hinges. He lifted his head as she approached but rested it back on his paws when he felt he had been given proper acknowledgement.

 

“Mama?”

 

Root grinned at the new moniker. “Hey Sweet Pea, I’m home.”

 

Gen rubbed the sleep from her eyes, brushing a few stray curls away from her face as she did. Root couldn’t figure out how she could possibly look older and younger than she had a week ago. It was such a paradox.

 

“I’m glad you’re back,” Gen mumbled, hugging her right around the middle and resting her chin on Root’s shoulder. “How was Seattle?”

 

“I’ll tell you all about it in the morning, okay? Go back to sleep.”

 

Gen let her go, settling back into her pillows. “Okay, I'll tell you about school too.”

 

“Deal. Sweet dreams.”

 

“Goodnight.”

 

Shaw was already upstairs getting ready for bed when Root closed Gen’s door behind her. She shut off the lights in the kitchen and headed up the familiar staircase in darkness. She followed the sound of running water until she found Sameen in the bathroom. 

 

“I need a shower,” she said, watching her wife brush her teeth in the mirror, “ and then I need you to tell me everything.”

 

And so she did. Root stripped down naked and washed the plane and the weather and the panic from her body, and when she was done she pulled on an oversized t-shirt and a pair of boy shorts and crawled into bed with Sameen. It was the middle of the night by now, but she didn’t care.

 

“Alright, I’m ready,” she said, propping her head on her hand and waiting for Sam to begin.

 

“She...actually did really well. By the time I got there it was chaos, but I guess she got all of her friends to hide behind a bench. I think the Machine warned her.”

 

“She did.” Root didn’t mention Gen’s new designation or the many questions it had sparked. 

 

“When I found her she was treating a GSW. She sort of had it all under control,” Shaw admitted. “It was just her, Alex, and that really tall kid from Lee’s team.”

 

“Wyatt,” Root supplied. Gen said he was a big puppy. 

 

“Yeah. They did a good job. Pretty sure that’s the last time Alex’s parents are letting her hang out with Gen though.”

 

“How was she supposed to know?”

 

“They’ll get over it,” Shaw agreed. “Fusco is gonna have a hell of a time covering my trail with the PD. Lots of people saw me shoot the guy and I was still there when the cops showed up.”

 

“I have complete faith in Lionel,” Root grinned, imagining what their teammate would say about the situation. She was glad that Lee was safe.

 

Sameen stared up at the ceiling, apparently she was done with her story.

 

“What’s wrong? I can see you’re thinking about something.”

 

Shaw rolled her eyes but Root knew it was a deflection.

 

“Come on, what is it?”

 

“I just keep wondering what would have happened if the Machine hadn’t warned her. Fusco said there were four dead when we were leaving. That could have been her. Her phone was in her backpack, if she hadn’t had her watch on…”

 

“But she did,” Root reminded her. “And she’s safe.”

 

“This time. What about next time? What about the time after that?”

 

“What are you suggesting, Sameen?” 

 

She ran her hands over her face. “ I don’t know. I just don’t know why she insists on chasing this down. She’s great with computers. She could have a nice, safe desk job, but instead she wants to be…”

 

“Me?”

 

“Kind of, yeah.” 

 

She thought of what the Machine had said again. Gen, who was by all accounts a civilian, shouldn’t have been given an asset designation. It was a secondary asset, yes, but still…

 

Shaw pulled her from her thoughts. “I never should have let her start training with Mike. Three lessons and she thinks she’s invincible.”

 

“Sameen, there’s no blame to place. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It happens every day.”

 

“Maybe, but she also chose to stay in that place after people got shot. She even got her friends to stay. She thinks she can’t be touched.”

 

“”She stayed behind to help people. I like to think she gets that from us, you know,” Root teased, reaching for Sameen’s hand and watching their fingers lace together.  “And if she thinks she’s invincible, it’s because she’s a teenager with incredibly classified intel about a secret all-seeing AI in her back pocket. Which is my fault, not yours.”

 

Shaw shook her head. “The Machine protected her, which is more than I did.”

 

“Sameen, you can’t be beating yourself up over this. Gen is fourteen years old. If we watched her every minute of every day she would hate us. We can’t protect her from the whole world, we can only prepare her for it.”

 

“I guess you’re right,” Shaw conceded, flicking off the light next to the bed and plunging the room into darkness. “But she’s never taking that fucking watch off again.”

 

Root curled against Shaw’s side and pressed a kiss to her cheek, letting a soft laugh escape her. “Whatever you say, Sweetie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know your thoughts below! What do you guys like? What do you want to see more of?


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